


The Favored Son

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Former drug abuse, M/M, Undercover Castiel, Undercover Dean, chuck's not very canon compliant, mob son castiel, witness protection castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4235565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was born and raised in the infamous Family, the favored son of his Father, the heir apparent to the empire. But he'd escaped, left all that behind as a teenager, and he's been in hiding for over a decade. But now the Father's dead, and he has to go back to infiltrate the ranks again. He doesn't have a choice; it was part of the deal he made with the FBI when they helped him run away. With his new (and slightly *cough* fake) fiance Dean at his side, he returns to the most dangerous place he's ever known, his home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so few small things. The underage and non-con warning are based on events in Castiel's past that are never actually described in any great detail. Cas mentions them in passing, but not much attention is given beyond that. 
> 
> This first chapter is just background info leading up to the story; there's not really any Destiel in it. So, if you're strictly looking for Destiel stuff, move on to the next chapter. I promise, I won't feel bad.
> 
> Also, if you love Chuck from the show, sorry. Chuck in this fic is not very canon-compliant. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy the fic! It's my first long one, so please don't hesitate to comment or point out discrepancies.

“Fuckin’ freezin’ out here.” Jack grumbled to his companion as they walked the perimeter of the grounds. He squeezed his fingers into a fist, trying to pull some feeling back into them. Despite being only mid-October, the Chicago night was frosty and biting. It didn’t help that their only protection against the elements was a black blazer over a black turtleneck paired with black slacks. He’d known when he moved from Tennessee that things would be colder, but fuck if he didn’t anticipate being smack in Frosty’s asscrack.

 

“Well then, maybe you should walk faster instead of complainin’ like a little bitch.” Jase, the older man who’d already experienced his fair share of northern winters, replied, gritting his teeth. Why the hell he’d been paired with the newbie was beyond him. He wasn’t even supposed to be on the training schedule anymore. The pair circled around the front and began walking more briskly, the promise of warmth pushing them toward the house. As they approached the door, a third man who was guarding the front door glanced over toward them, a bored expression plastered on his face. As soon as he saw them, though, his eyebrows drew together in confusion.

 

“Carson.” Jase muttered as they approached him.

 

“Jase, what the hell you doing here?” He asked.

 

“I’m training the newb.” Jase grumbled, earning a glare from Jack. “Why?”

 

“I thought that you were with the Favorite tonight.” Carson murmured, pulling out his phone to check the schedule.

 

“No, I got your email switchin’ me to training detail.” Jase pulled out his own phone and brought up the email.

“I never sent out any schedule changes.” Carson muttered, squinting at the screen that Jase held out toward him.

 

“Must’ve been on accident or something.” Jase mumbled, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. He glanced longingly toward the door, wanting nothing more than the warmth inside. Carson caught his stare and shrugged. It could’ve been an old email that had somehow resent.

 

“Check his room, just to be safe.” Carson ordered, jerking his head back toward the door. Jase nodded and motioned for Jack to follow him. They stepped inside and headed toward the wide staircase in the middle of the entryway. They took the stairs slowly to allow the heat to seep back into their stiff limbs. Once they reached the top, they took the hallway to the left.

 

“We’ll just check to make sure the Favorite’s still in his room; he doesn’t usually go out on Tuesday nights.” Jase explained as they walked, and Jack nodded. They wound their way through several smaller halls until they finally stopped in front of a large oak door. Jase rapped his knuckles against the smooth wooden surface. There was no response. Unusual. He knocked again, louder this time, and called out, “Sir? Are you in there?” No response came. He knocked a third time, but again was met with silence. He glanced over at Jack and jerked his head downward, signaling for him to be on alert. Jack placed his hand on his holster, tensing as Jase reached for the handle. Jase’s hand moved to his own piece as he turned the handle and the door swung inward. The room was empty. He moved toward the in-suite bathroom, but the door was wide open and there was no one there. Jase returned to the main room just as Jack walked out of the closet, shaking his head.

 

Jase pulled his wrist up toward his mouth and spoke quickly into the mouthpiece hidden there. “Does anyone have eyes on the Favorite?” There were several immediate responses of “Negative.”

 

Jase looked over at Jack, eyes wide. “Fuck.” They both started moving at once, headed back toward the main section of the house. Another voice squawked over the line, “Jase, I thought he was with you.”

 

“Ferguson?” Jase asked, stopping short.

 

“Yeah. I thought you were with him when he left.” Ferguson replied. Both men stared at each other for a split second before rushing toward the back staircase that would take them down to the huge garage where all the family cars were housed.

 

“When did he leave?” Jack asked into his mouthpiece.

 

“About thirty-five minutes ago.” Ferguson sounded anxious now as well.

 

“We’re headed down to your location now. Carson?”

 

“I heard; I’m headed that way.”

 

Jase and Jack ran into the garage from the back entrance just as Carson entered from the other end.

 

“What car did he take?” Carson demanded, yanking the clipboard with the time log from Ferguson.

 

“The Berlinetta.” Ferguson responded, rewinding the footage on the security camera to when the car had left. The screen showed the Favorite waiting near the back staircase that Jase and Jack had used, staring down at his phone screen. Twenty-five seconds later, the Berlinetta pulled up, the man climbed into the passenger seat, and the car took off. The tape showed the car exiting the garage at 7:10.

 

“Who the fuck was driving?” The car’s windows were tinted, so the tape was useless. Carson looked down at the log; it listed Jason Malkin as the driver. He showed the log to Jase, who shook his head emphatically.

 

“No, I got that email from you about the schedule change; I was outside with Jack walking the perimeter from 7 p.m. until you saw us a few minutes ago.” He looked to Jack for verification, and the younger man nodded.

 

“Well, is everyone accounted for? Maybe he grabbed someone from ground floor on his way out.” Jack suggested, but Carson shook his head.

 

“He checks with me if Jase isn’t available, and I assign a new companion to him for the evening.”

 

“Should we tell him?” Ferguson asked, jerking his head in the general direction of the main house.

 

“No, not until we know anything for sure. Ferguson, track the GPS and send me the location; we’re going to check on this. I’ll take the Ducati. Jase, take Jack with you in the Hummer. We’ll start downtown, the usual spots.” He grabbed the keys for the Hummer and tossed them to Jase, who took off toward the last row of cars with Jack in tow. Carson went to reach for the Ducati key, only to find it missing.

 

“The Ducati’s getting work done.” Ferguson explained, holding out the set for the Vyrus bike instead.

 

“Why? It was fine.” Carson asked, suspicion lacing his tone as he snatched the keys from Ferguson. 

 

“Favorite said he wanted an updated paint job by some up-and-coming prodigy he heard about from his boating buddy; said the guy owns a custom bike shop up by Division.” Ferguson didn’t look up as he spoke, his eyes glued to the trace running on his screen. Carson turned and ran toward the bikes, yelling for Ferguson to text him the coordinates over his shoulder.

 

They were barely ten minutes out when the text came with the location. Carson pulled up beside the Hummer and motioned for Jase to follow him. He knew the apartment block where the car was parked; it was not an area that anyone should be visiting at night, much less the Favored Son in a car that cost more than most of those apartment blocks combined. After twenty minutes of rushing through night traffic, they pulled into the apartment complex. He sent Jase a quick hand signal, indicating for him to check the streets to the right while he would check the streets to the left.

 

For forty tense minutes they circled the streets; they checked between apartment blocks and in dark alleyways. When neither the car nor the man had been sighted, Carson decided to call off the search, sure that the software must have made an error, when he spotted a flash of metal reflected against his headlight. He pulled into the small side yard, an area barely big enough for a small car to fit through, and stopped in front of the object with a tarp haphazardly thrown over it. He yanked the tarp away to reveal the shiny Berlinetta beneath. He tried the door handle and found it unlocked. The interior light flicked on when the door opened, and his frown deepened at the sight that greeted him. On the driver’s seat were a set of perfectly folded clothing, a wallet, a phone, and the car keys. On top of the pile rested a single note written in distinctive scrawl. I’m sorry, Father. Carson sighed deeply as he ran his fingers through his already tousled hair. “Shit.” He muttered as he pulled out his cell and called the house, gritting his teeth as he waited. The line picked up after four rings, and that calm, resonating voice responded with a weary, “Yes, Mr. Carson?”

 

“Sir, I’m sorry to disrupt you at this late hour, but something’s happened.” Carson hedged, usually so confident, but now unsure with how to proceed with the news. 

 

“Yes?”

 

“It’s your son, Sir. He’s, um, well, he’s . . . gone.”

 

“Excuse me?” The man responded, his voice not changing in the slightest. That was the worst thing about working for a man like the Father; his moods were inscrutable and, usually, deadly.

 

“Castiel is missing.”


	2. New Beginnings and First Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time Hop!! We get to see Castiel's new life, his amazing job, his queen bitch best friend, and his and Dean's first meeting. 
> 
> See end of chapter for ramblings and apologies.

Twelve Years Later - Boston, MA

 

“And that’s why Fitzgerald is considered a master of the craft; he took simple colors, colors that the reader already knows and associates with a certain mindset, and laced them into the story to create images for the reader. Imagism,” Castiel turned and wrote the term on the blackboard behind him, “is the use of colorful words and phrases to create an impression. It’s why we see white dresses, ash-grey men, blue gardens, pink clouds, yellow cars, the blue eyes of God. Fitzgerald wanted to associate these characters and settings with colors that we already connect with an emotion so that we would unconsciously connect the character or setting to that emotion.”

 

A girl toward the center of the classroom raised her hand, smiling flirtatiously. Castiel cringed inwardly as he called on her, “Yes, Mari?”

 

“What do blue eyes symbolize?” She asked innocently. Castiel smiled and shook his head,

 

“You’ll have to read the book.” Right then, the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. The class stood and rushed from the classroom in clusters, the girls giggling and blushing as they passed Castiel’s desk, the boys glaring and mumbling. Castiel sighed and shook his head as he sat down heavily behind his desk. He would have thought that by his eighth year of teaching, things would be different, that everyone would have become used to his presence at the school. Instead, he had even more teenage girls falling over themselves to gain his attention. He chuckled humorlessly. He sometimes wanted to shake some sense into them, point out, Hey, I’m at least fourteen years older than you, or maybe, Get some gaydar. A sharp rap at his door pulled him out of his reverie and he glanced over, smiling at Jo as she strode in.

 

“Hey, Gorgeous.” He teased, winking at her.

 

“Well, hello, Mr. Not-Half-Bad-Yourself.” She teased back, perching on the edge of his desk.

 

“Listen,” she began, never one to waste words, “my mom and stepdad are having a cookout this weekend, and they want you to come.”

 

Castiel immediately groaned and shook his head, “Why are they having a cookout? It’s barely spring!”

 

“It’s supposed to be super warm this weekend.”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“Jimmy! Come on! They never see you anymore; they worry.” She scolded, pinning him down with the steely glare that she’d inherited from her mother. Castiel never ceased to hesitate at the false name, even though he had used it for nearly as long as his given name. Maybe he would grow used to it one day, but for now it still felt foreign and uncertain.

 

“Jo, last time I went to something at Bobby and Ellen’s place, they tried to pair me up with their neighbor from across the street, who, by the way, turned out to be a stripper.” 

 

“Exotic dancer,” Jo corrected. “Stop getting your panties in such a twist. And I made them promise to stop trying to match you up.” She ran her finger over the cover of a notebook on Castiel’s desk and glanced up at him, smirking. “Or, you know, you could just tell them that you’re gay, and then they’ll at least try pushing someone from the right gender at you.” Castiel shook his head emphatically.

 

“Jo, no! I shouldn’t have to tell them anything; it should be common courtesy to let me find someone on my own terms and in my own time.” Bobby, of all people, should know best that Castiel couldn’t trust just anyone. Jo let out a longsuffering sigh.

 

“Fine. Geez, Jimmy, get off your righteous high horse. They’ve promised that they won’t try to set you up, so they won’t try to set you up. Just come to the cookout. It will put both their minds at rest, even if Bobby is too stubborn to say so.”

 

Castiel glared at her for a solid twenty seconds, but she just glared back at him until he relented.

 

“Fine! You know, my whole obstinate glare thing used to work on everybody. Why’d you have to go building an immunity?” Castiel muttered, standing as he gathered his books into his bag.

 

“I’m just that awesome. I’ll tell Ellen and Bobby you said yes; they’ll be so excited.” She smiled as she looped her arm through Castiel’s. “In fact, I’ll let you tell Ellen yourself; let’s stop by her place to grab a beer.”

 

“I thought you had papers to grade?” Castiel asked as he paused to lock his classroom door behind him.

 

“Yeah, but I’m going to need at least a little help if I’m going to get through eighty-five papers on the Russian revolution tonight.” She groused, then brightened. “Hey, wanna bet on how many of them are going to list the Anastasia movie as a reference?” Castiel chuckled as he pushed through the side door that led out to the faculty parking lot and held it open for Jo. “Well, thank you, kind sir!” She cried out in a haughty British accent.

 

“You’re very welcome, my good lady. Most glad to be of service.” He replied in his best British accent, which was atrocious, and Jo cracked up.

 

“Why do you always do this to yourself?” Castiel asked as he waited for Jo to unlock the car door. “I mean, you know that the deadline for getting these papers back has been coming up for weeks; the least you could do is pace yourself. Do ten during a free hour, fifteen more during study hall. It’s not like you keep an eye on the students, anyway.” He teased as he opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat.

 

“Why, Sir, I am offended at your inclination. Just because we can’t all be Mr. Perfect who sits in his room and works all day. Some of us have more important things to concern ourselves with.” Castiel snorted.

 

“What, like flirting with the new econ teacher down in 414?” He asked, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

 

“I’ll have you know that Marcus and I do not flirt . . . and he’s in room 411.” She responded, grinning over at him mischievously. Castiel rolled his eyes as he scrolled through his emails. Fucking spam mail . . . oh, wait. His eyes halted on an email and he clicked on it, his smile broadening as he skimmed over its contents.

 

“What’s got you so smiley all of a sudden?” Jo asked, glancing over at his phone.

 

“It’s Dr. Abrams from the university.”

 

“Wait, Dr. Abrams in sociology or Dr. Abrams in humanities?” Jo asked, pulling up at a stop light.

 

“Humanities department, of course; I never met whoever the hell you’re talking about.” Castiel said this like it should have been obvious and Jo huffed indignantly, “Sorry, I forgot that I had your entire class schedule for all four years of college memorized.”

 

“Whatever. Listen, Dr. Abrams is retiring after this spring semester, and he’s recommended me to the chair to fill his position.” Castiel read out, his grin nearly breaking his face now. Jo smiled affectionately at him, her happiness rising at his excitement. She’d known from early on in their friendship that he wanted to teach college literature and mold the minds of students who, for the most part, would actually want to hear what he was lecturing about.

 

“Jimmy, that’s so awesome!” She cried, clapping him on the shoulder. He shook his head as he reread the email, still grinning like an idiot.

 

“He says I need to email Dr. Whittaker my resume as soon as possible. Quick, drop me off at home.”

 

“What? No! We need a couple of beers to celebrate this.” She argued, but Castiel shook his head.

 

“Jo, I won’t get the job if I don’t email my resume in. We can go out celebrating after I get the interview or something.” He promised, giving her his best puppy-dog look.

 

“Fine, I guess.” She groused, turning left at the next light toward Castiel’s condo. She had barely pulled up to the curb before he was opening the door and jumping out.

 

“Don’t forget about the cookout this weekend!” She called after him as he ran up the walk to his front door. He waved over his shoulder as he walked inside and shut the door behind him.

 

“Dickwad.” She muttered affectionately under her breath as she pulled back out into traffic.

 

So, Jo told me about the new job.” Ellen handed Castiel a beer as they stood in the backyard, watching from a safe distance as Bobby swore loudly at the grill. Castiel grinned at the sight.

 

“Yes, Dr. Whittaker and I have an interview set up for the Tuesday right after the school year at Warburton ends next month.”

 

“Well, that’s moving along smoothly. When she told me about it, you were barely emailing him your resume.”

 

“Yes, apparently Dr. Abrams offered high praise for me, which is incredibly rare for a grumpy old man like him, so Whittaker just had to meet me.” Castiel grinned over at the older woman, and she inclined her head, clinking her beer bottle to his, “Well, here’s to new jobs.”

 

“To new jobs.” Castiel agreed.

 

“I’d better go help him before he sets his shirt on fire again.” Ellen grumbled, moving toward the grill. Castiel grinned as he watched her snatch the spatula out of Bobby’s hand and wave it in his face. Castiel glanced at the several people milling about the large back yard and sighed. He was glad he’d come, despite his protests. Bobby and Ellen’s place always held a sense of peace and contentment that was hard to find anywhere else. He spotted Jo across the yard and waved at her. She left the couple she’d been speaking to and came to stand by Castiel.

 

“You wouldn’t know it to watch them, but they are crazy about each other.” She assured him. Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but stopped short. His eyes widened as they landed on the man who’d just entered the yard. Green was the first coherent thought that flashed through Castiel’s mind. His eyes were so green and big and pretty and wow. Once Castiel was able to move past the eyes, he saw that the man’s scruff-covered jawline was perfectly cut, his nose thin and straight, and his lips. . . God, his lips were something else. They looked like they were made for sin. He had dirty blonde hair that was combed carelessly off to the side, like he’d just run his fingers through it and ended up with that perfectly tousled look. He was wearing a plaid shirt, but it didn’t quite cover up the muscled form beneath. His well-fitted jeans showcased his legs quite well. Castiel couldn’t even begin to imagine what he looked like from the back.

 

“Holy fuck.” Castiel breathed, causing Jo to glance over at him and catch where his eyesight was directed. She chuckled.

 

“Yeah, that’s Dean. He’s a coworker of dad’s. Must not have worked there while you were there for your summer job.” She commented lightly, and Castiel shook his head, clearing it of a fog he hadn’t realized was there.

 

“Trust me, Sweetie, I’d remember that.” He promised.

 

“Well, unfortunately, that is straight. I’ve never once seen him with a guy.” Jo informed him, smiling kindly.

 

“Fuck, aren’t all the gorgeous ones, though?” Castiel muttered. He sighed sadly and brought his beer back up for another sip. He watched as Dean walked up to Bobby and Ellen and handed Ellen the beer he’d brought, shook Bobby’s hand as the older man clapped him on the back, and immediately burst out into laughter at something Bobby said. His whole body bent backward when he laughed, and Castiel forced himself to look away. It never worked out well when the gay guy fell for a straight guy, especially a straight guy in Dean and Bobby’s line of work. Bobby turned and motioned Jo over; she, of course, grabbed Castiel by the arm and dragged him along beside her. Castiel almost panicked, but he realized that he had nothing to worry about. As far as everyone but Jo here was concerned, he was hetero as the next guy, so there was no reason Dean would think he was hitting on him or some kind of perv.

 

“Hey there, Handsome.” Jo teased as she reached up to peck Dean on the cheek.

 

“Sup, short stuff?” Dean responded as he ruffled her hair and she smacked his hand away. She turned to Castiel and smiled, “Jimmy, this is Dean. Dean, this is Jimmy. We’ve been best friends since college, and he works with me at Warburton.” Castiel extended his hand and smiled softly as Dean shook it. He opened his mouth to say hello.

 

“And he used to work with us over at the office during his breaks.” Bobby supplied. Dean glanced back at Castiel, eyebrows raised, “A government office intern who went on to be a high school teacher. What department did you used to work in?”

 

“I went wherever they needed the most help.” Castiel answered, smiling.

 

“Jimmy is pretty much a wiz at everything.” Jo stated, smirking when Castiel rolled his eyes at her.

 

“First day I met Jimmy,” Bobby said, “Ash was in my office complaining about that long-range Bluetooth listening device that we use on stake-outs now. He couldn’t get it to work on the right frequency or some other technical shit. Anyway, Jimmy here walked in the door, barely glanced at the thing in Ash’s hands, and said, dead serious, ‘That device won’t work like that.’ Then he grabbed the damn thing, switched some of the wiring around, and it’s worked like a charm ever since. After that, Ash insisted that he help him in his lab pretty much all the time.” He smiled softly and shook his head, “I miss that little shithead.” A moment of silence fell over the group until Jo raised her bottle slightly and said, “To Ash.” To which everyone responded, “Ash.”

 

“But Jimmy worked everywhere in the office; Mrs. Dudgeon in the finance office still sends him Christmas cookies every December.”

 

“Well, I’m sufficiently impressed based on that alone. I’ve been working at the office for three years now, and I just got my first batch of cookies in December.” Dean teased.

 

“Yeah, Jimmy’s just a jack of all trades, I guess you could say.” Jo said, grinning at Castiel’s discomfort.

 

“Speaking of, where is Mrs. Dudgeon tonight?” Castiel asked in an obvious attempt to change the conversation topic.

 

“Some sort of dance recital or something.” Dean offered, to which both Ellen and Castiel said in unison, “Jenny.”

 

“Well, listen, Bobby and I are gonna finish up grilling the meat. Why don’t you kids go put the beers in the fridge?” Ellen offered, handing the case back to Dean. The three began walking up toward the house.

 

“Yeah, because it’ll totally take all three of us to carry them in.” Jo muttered, rolling her eyes. Right then, the back gate opened again, and a new guest entered. Jo’s face lit up as she patted Castiel affectionately on the back and said, “Well, looks like I’m going to be busy for the rest of the night. See you, boys.” Castiel turned to see who the new guest was and rolled his eyes.

 

“Who’s that?” Dean asked, smirking as Jo ran up and hugged the new guest enthusiastically.

 

“That’s Marcus; he’s a new teacher at Walburton.” Castiel explained as he turned to continue up to the house.

 

“Oh, and him and Jo are a thing now?” Dean asked, and Cas laughed.

 

“If by ‘thing’ you mean they hook up at regular intervals, then yes. Jo doesn’t really go for the whole love and romance bit.” Castiel explained, and Dean smiled, “I can get that. Ellen must not be too happy about it, though.”

 

“I don’t know; I don’t really see Ellen and Bobby all that much anymore.” Castiel hedged, his tone regretful.

 

“Too busy or somethin’?” Dean asked, and Castiel nodded, “Or something.”

 

“So what about you?” Dean suddenly asked, and Castiel glanced over at him, trying to figure out what he meant.

 

“What about me?” He asked, confusion clear.

 

“Do you go for the whole love and romance bit? Anyone special?” He asked, using Castiel’s earlier words. Castiel blushed and shook his head, “No, I’m afraid not.”

 

“What is your bit, then?” Dean asked, eyes intent on Castiel’s face. Castiel shrugged and smiled, “Commitment issues, trust issues, daddy issues, you name it.”

 

“Sounds like someone I know.” Dean murmured softly, and Castiel wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear it, so he didn’t comment on it. He opened the patio door for Dean, leading him inside. They put the beers in the fridge and headed back outside to the party.

 

“So, what do you teach over at Warburton?” Dean asked as they slowly walked back toward the others.

 

“Literature.”

 

“No shit? That’s a thing?” Dean asked, and Castiel turned to tell him where to shove it when he saw that Dean was smirking.

 

“Fuck you.” Castiel muttered, smiling despite himself. “Literature is one of the greatest commodities known to mankind. It connects us to our past, our future, and each other. All throughout history, the fates of entire peoples have been decided by literature. In ancient Rome, Caesars paid writers to create works that would help build camaraderie and loyalty to Rome. The entire science world was turned on its head by a single book by Darwin. Even in our own country, a single book helped spur the north to such great indignation that they jumped into a civil war against their own brothers.”

 

“Wow, that was quite the spiel.” Dean offered when Castiel had finished. Castiel blushed and glanced away.

 

“So, what do you do over at the office?” He finally asked to break the silence.

 

“Acquisitions.” Dean responded immediately, as if it were ingrained into him, and Castiel nodded in understanding, “Ah, I see.”

 

“I forgot, you probably know exactly what that means.” Dean chuckled, and Castiel nodded, “That I do.”

 

“Dean!” Right then, a pretty brunette woman ran over.

 

“Lisa, how’s it going?” Dean asked, smiling flirtatiously as she approached. Castiel drew up short, but managed to keep an impassive face. Right, Dean, straight as an arrow. Lisa glanced over at Castiel as she drew closer. “Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met before.” Castiel smiled charmingly at her and extended his hand, “Jimmy Novak. Old family friend of the Singers.”

 

“Wait! Jimmy Novak, as in hot English teacher Jimmy Novak who went out with Penny Lang from across the street?” She asked, her smile turning up a notch.

 

“Um, yes?” Castiel responded, his eyebrow quirking. “Why? Did you hear anything specific about it?” He asked, suddenly anxious. He’d purposefully ignored Penny’s invitation to ‘come inside and have a drink’ that night for, well, obvious reasons. He’d simply smiled and said he had papers to grade before pecking her cheek and walking back to his car.

 

“Oh, I heard something all right.” She said. Castiel glanced over at Dean for help, but found Dean glaring at him. Right, Dean was into Lisa, who was flirting with Castiel, or rather Jimmy . . . and neither Jimmy nor Castiel actually wanted the flirtation. So, it was time to get the hell out of there. He was pulled back into the conversation when Lisa continued talking. “Penny said that you were the perfect gentleman. You took her to a nice restaurant down by the pier, you insisted on paying for everything, and you didn’t even flinch when she mentioned her . . . extra income.”

 

“Ah, yes, the dancing.” Castiel murmured, and Lisa giggled and nodded.

 

 

“Yes, the dancing. She said that you were practically perfect; you walked her to her door and gave her a good old-fashioned kiss on the cheek and made sure she got safely inside before leaving. But, according to her, despite the fact that the entire night went perfectly, you never called back. Now, why would a good-looking, single man who had a perfect date with a beautiful, single lady not call back? Curious minds want to know, Mr. Novak.” This entire time, she’d been sidling closer and closer, until she was standing right in front of him, flashing that flirtatious smile. Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her because he knew what she was thinking; they all thought the same thing. It was like a challenge to them to see who was woman enough to hook the guy. He’d faced the problem plenty of times since he was a teenager. He looked over to Dean, who was still glaring; Castiel was going to have to show Dean that he was not interested in Lisa, and maybe the guy would stop glaring at him. He smiled flirtatiously at Lisa as he leaned down to whisper into her ear, “Curious minds can go fuck themselves for all I care, Lisa.” And then he smiled at her shocked expression and walked away, whistling happily.

 

“You told Lisa to go fuck herself?” Jo asked incredulously as she plopped down on the grass next to him later. Bobby was starting up a bonfire, and Ellen was passing out stuff for s’mores. Castiel smiled contentedly and nodded, “Yep. Well, actually, she referred to herself as a ‘curious mind,’” he held his fingers up in quotation marks as he said it, “and I told her that curious minds could go fuck themselves.” He chuckled when Jo punched him on the shoulder. “Ow! What? She wouldn’t stop flirting, and Dean was getting pissed, so I put a stop to it.”

 

“Wait, what was Dean getting pissed about?” Jo asked, latching onto that slice of information. Castiel shrugged.

 

“I don’t know; I think he’s into Lisa, and she kept flirting with me instead of him, and he was pissed about it.”

 

“How anyone in the world manages to think you’re this sweet, little innocent who wouldn’t hurt a fly is beyond me. I mean, you’re vicious when you get it into you.” She murmured.

 

“Literally and figuratively.” Castiel murmured, laughing when Jo smacked him on the arm shrieking, “Ew, TMI much?”

 

They sat there in companionable silence for a few moments, and then Jo leaned over and murmured, “I always figured you were the bottom.” Castiel burst out laughing again and shoved her hard enough to knock her over. She grabbed his shirt as she fell and yanked him down with to her. They ended up laying in the grass, hiccupping and giggling hysterically in a tangle of limbs.

 

“You’re my best friend, you know that, right?” She murmured as they settled against each other.

 

“Yeah, I know. And you’re my favorite history teacher at Walburton.”

 

“Bitch, I’m the only history teacher at Walburton right now.”

 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Castiel murmured, chuckling when she hit him on the stomach.

 

“Well, don’t you two look cozy?” A deep voice asked from above them, and they both craned their necks backward to find Dean standing there.

 

“Dean! How’s Lisa?” Castiel asked, smiling like the little shit he was until Jo punched him. “Ow! You’re going to leave me covered in bruises if you keep that up, Jo, and not the good kind of bruises!”

 

“Oh my god! Again with the TMI!” She groaned, covering her face with her hand. Dean chuckled and settled on the grass next to them, sitting so that his body was no more than three or four inches away from Castiel’s. Jo felt Castiel stiffen and chuckled smugly. Castiel pushed her off and sat up.

 

“Lisa’s fine; a little shocked, but she’ll live. Did you really tell her to go fuck herself?”

 

“No, technically—” Castiel began, but Jo cut him off, “Yes, he did. Call it what you will, but Castiel essentially just told your special lady friend to go fuck herself. So, if you feel the need to defend her honor and punch him in the face or something, feel free.”

 

“She’s not my special lady friend.” Dean muttered, his cheeks heating.

 

“Really? Because your blush says otherwise.” Jo pointed out.

 

“I’m not blushing because of that.” Dean argued, the red creeping further up his cheeks. “I’m blushing because of . . . other stuff.”

 

“Wow, that was a really good answer.” Castiel teased. Dean rolled his eyes. The bonfire lasted for several more hours, and when it came time for Castiel to go home, he knew he was too wobbly on his feet to drive himself. He wandered around the yard for several minutes trying to find Jo before he remembered that Marcus had been there that night, so she’d probably already gone home with him.

 

“Shit.” He muttered, pulling out his cell phone to call a cab.

 

“Jimmy, what’s up?” A voice called out from behind him, and he turned to see Dean headed toward him.

 

“Dean! Hey. I’m about to call a cab.” He held his phone up as if to prove that he really was about to call.

 

“Why?” Dean asked, and Castiel smiled.

 

“I might be a tiny bit intoxicated, so I really shouldn’t drive.” He explained. Dean nodded and chuckled, “Been there. Hey, how bout I give you a lift home?”

 

“Oh, no! You don’t have to do that. Really, I can get a cab.” Castiel argued, but Dean shook his head.

 

“Jimmy, don’t waste your money. Let me say bye to Ellen and Bobby and we can take off.” 

 

“Well, I guess I should say bye as well. I’ll come with.” Castiel followed Dean up toward the top of the yard where the hosts were giving hugs and saying their farewells. Ellen grinned at Cas as she pulled him into a tight hug.

 

“Goodnight, Castiel.” She whispered silently, and Castiel blinked in surprise for a moment before allowing himself to melt into the hug. It had been so long since anybody had called him by his real name; hearing it come from someone else’s mouth was such a relief.

 

“Thank you, Ellen, for everything.” He whispered back, and she nodded. She patted his cheek before turning her attention to Dean. Bobby reached out and he took his hand in a firm grasp.

 

“Everything going okay, boy?” He asked gruffly, and Castiel nodded. “Good. You call around more often; Ellen likes hearing from you, knowing you’re okay.”

 

“We both do.” Ellen stressed, wrapping an arm around her husband’s waist.

 

“I’ll try calling up again soon.” Castiel promised.

 

“Or, at the very least, you can come by for the Fourth this year. We’ll have another big cookout and fireworks.” Ellen offered, and Castiel nodded.

 

“The Fourth it is then. I’ll make sure to call before then, as well. Let you know I’m alive and whatnot.” Castiel teased. He turned to Dean, who had been watching the entire scene with interest. “Ready?” Dean nodded and offered a final wave before he turned away toward the gate.

Castiel followed him to his car and offered a low whistle as he took in the black muscle car.

 

“Holy shit, is this original?” He asked, running his hand over the hood.

 

“Yes, she is.” Dean said, his pride obvious in his voice. “You a car guy?” Castiel froze for a moment. Jimmy Novak was not a car guy; he had a sensible Toyota that was more geared toward safety-conscious moms and budget-tight young adults. Castiel had almost slipped up; damn, he shouldn’t get drunk. He shrugged and smiled, “My dad used to be really into old cars.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily as he opened the passenger door and got in.

 

“Sounds like my kind of guy.” Dean cranked the engine and lowered the rock station on the radio. “So, Jimmy Novak, where do you live?”

 

“439 Evergreen Drive.” Castiel responded easily as he shifted his weight to settle further into the seat.

 

“That’s east of here, right?” Dean confirmed, and Cas nodded. They drove in silence for a few moments before Dean finally spoke.

 

“So, Bobby and Ellen, they’re, uh, old friends?”

 

“Yes, they’ve been a huge help to me from college on. Luckiest day of my life when I met Bobby.”

 

“I thought you met Jo first?”

 

“Uh, no.” Castiel responded, smiling fondly. “We, uh, met through her parents. And we kind of hated each other at first. She called me an entitled prat, I thought she was a bossy know-it-all. We spent the first three weeks of the semester actively hating each other and trying to make each other’s lives miserable. And then, one day, this dumbass jock just ripped into me because of, uh, something stupid that he shouldn’t have even known or cared about, and Jo jumped in to defend me. I realized being friends with the daughter of a federal agent has its perks, and she realized that there was a lot more to me than she’d originally thought. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

 

“The dumbass who was ripping into you, it was because you’re gay?” Dean asked suddenly, and Castiel nodded, “Yeah, I guess he thought that it was conta—” He stopped short and stared over at Dean.

 

“How the fuck did you know about that?” He demanded, eyes wide with worry.

 

“I figured it out. Plus the whole ‘bottom’ conversation with Jo really helped put things together.”

 

“You heard that?” Castiel asked, gaping.

 

“Yeah. Don’t worry, though, nobody else did.”

 

“Fuck.” Cas ground out, dropping his head into his hands.

 

“Dude, what’s wrong?” Dean asked.

 

“No one besides Jo knows! Not even Bobby, and he practically knows everything about me.” Cas moaned into his hands.

 

“Listen, even if Bobby did know, he wouldn’t care. He’s not one of those lughead agents who thinks that family equals a man and woman with two point five kids and a white picket fence. It’s obvious that, to him, you’re family, and once you’re family with Bobby, nothing can change that. No matter how much of a screw-up you are, he’s there to stay.” Dean spoke with passion and assurance, and Castiel could do nothing but stare helplessly at him. He was fucking beautiful like that. Well, he was fucking beautiful all the time, but when he got going about something . . . God. The rest of the car ride was spent in silence as Castiel contemplated Dean’s words and tried to convince himself that he wasn’t nearly drunk enough to blame kissing the man on alcohol. 

 

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel murmured as they pulled up in front of his place. He opened his door to get out when he realized that Dean was also stepping out into the cooling night. “Wha—”

 

“Figured I’d walk you to your door, since, according to Lisa, that’s what constitutes as a perfect ending to an evening.” Dean smirked as he walked around to the sidewalk and followed Castiel up to his front door. Castiel pulled out his keys and fumbled for a second before fitting his key into the lock, keenly aware of Dean’s gaze on the back of his head. He finally got the door open and moved to step inside, grateful for the distance it would provide from Dean and his overwhelming, well, everything. Just as he was about to step across the threshold, Dean grabbed his elbow. Castiel glanced up at Dean warily. Dean opened his mouth to stay something, but at the last moment seemed to change his mind. Instead, he shook his head and smiled softly as he murmured, “Good night, Jimmy.” He leaned down to brush his lips against Castiel’s cheek, just the barest of touches, but it made Castiel’s blood rush to his cheeks, hot and pink. Dean smiled as he pulled away and turned to leave.

 

“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel murmured after his retreating back, slowly shutting the door between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Jo and Cas are absolutely the perfectest best friends ever. Yes, Cas is hella gay and, unfortunately, in the closet about it. Although, I couldn't really decide if I wanted it to be because of his personal preference or because of the necessity because he's in hiding, so I kind of tried to ride a line right in the middle there. 
> 
> Sorry about the whole Jimmy / Castiel thing; I know it's probably confusing. I just couldn't think of a good way to do it, so whenever he's talked about in the narrative, he is Castiel, and whenever he's mentioned in dialogue, he, of course, is Jimmy. 
> 
> Yes, Gatsby is my ALL-TIME FAVORITE novel; I could spend hours expounding upon its virtues, but I feel like I managed to keep my gushing relatively short. And I made Cas a literature teacher because that's what I hope to be someday. 
> 
> As always, hope you enjoy. If you notice any plot holes or discrepancies, don't hesitate to mention them!


	3. Drunken Celebrations and Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and the others go out to celebrate with copious amounts of the alcohol

The school year ended, leaving Castiel with tons of free time to worry about the interview that next week. The worry ended up being for nothing, though. The interview with Dr. Whittaker went well; Castiel was offered a position for the fall, which he readily accepted. He called Jo, and she, of course, insisted that they go over to Ellen’s bar to have celebratory drinks.

 

“I don’t want to drive, though. Last time I drank at your parents’ place, I had to catch a ride home from Dean.”

 

“Oh, stop acting like it was such a terrible thing! I know you loved it.” Jo chastised, but relented to picking him up in twenty-five minutes. He threw on his nice jeans and blue striped button-up, running his fingers through his hair a few times to muss it up some. He pulled on his chucks just as the doorbell rang, and he ran to answer it, knowing that if he didn’t answer it within twenty seconds, Jo would start picking the lock. He yanked the door open, grinning broadly, to find that it was not Jo on his front step.

 

“Dean!” The other man wore casual black jeans and a Henley, but damn if he didn’t look downright fuckable.

 

“Hey, Man! I hear we’re celebrating tonight.” Dean said, his smile broad.

 

“Uh, yeah! Yeah!” Castiel responded, grabbing his keys and wallet from the side table in the entry way. He tried to clear his mind of all dirty thoughts, repeating the mantra Straight as an arrow to himself, before he turned back to look at Dean. “I, uh, got a new job.”

 

“Really? So the lit thing just wasn’t working out for you?” Dean teased as Castiel shut and locked the door behind him.

 

 

“Shut the fuck up. It’s actually a job at the university; I’ll be teaching a variety of American literature classes there this fall.” Castiel explained. He followed Dean to his car and smiled slightly when the taller man opened his door for him. “Thanks.”

 

“Wow, so you’re moving up in the literary world. I don’t know whether to be impressed or intimidated by you. I mean, soon you’ll be one of those hoity toity professors who drink tea with milk and three cubes of sugar instead of two.” Dean admitted as he climbed into his side of the car.

 

“You can shut your whore mouth now, thank you very much.” Castiel responded, reaching over for his seatbelt. When he turned back around with the seatbelt, he found Dean leaning forward, staring at him intently.

 

“There are very few things that can shut a whore mouth, none of which I think we want to use just yet.” Dean murmured, and Castiel almost groaned. Why the hell was this guy fucking around with him? If he was straight, he needed to stop saying things that could be construed as flirting by a gay man. Maybe Dean was just oblivious? He decided to turn things around on the other man.

 

“Dean, I can think of several things that can shut a whore mouth, and trust me when I say that I would not mind using every single one of them on you. Now can we get to the fucking bar? I feel the need to imbibe a copious amount of celebratory alcohol.” Dean smirked and put the car into gear.

 

“Jimmy, you’re so precious! You’re, like, too fucking precious for this world.” Jo slurred, slumped against Castiel in the corner booth their group occupied. Castiel snorted and petted the top of her hair, humming in agreement. The evening had begun with everyone but the drivers downing two shots of tequila, and had progressed quickly from there. Pamela, who was sitting across from them, laughed outrageously at the comment.

 

“Jimmy, why don’t you come over here to sit by me so you can show me how precious you really are?” She offered, wiggling her fingers at Castiel in invitation. Cas just giggled and shook his head.

 

“Spamela, you and I both know that you couldn’t handle me.” He promised, yanking the bottle of Jack away from Jo and taking another sip.

 

“Spamela!” Charlie, a rambunctious red-head who got very handsy when she was drunk, scooted closer to the older woman and pouted. “Why can’t I show you how special I am?”

 

“Aw, you can, Sweetie! Come here.” Pamela pulled Charlie close and rested her cheek on top of the girl’s red curls. Charlie tried to protest, but Pamela shushed her, petting her cheek like a puppy.

 

 

“I don’t think that’s what she had in mind.” Jo pointed out, laughing when Castiel pulled Jo to his side to copy the action. He began rubbing his cheek against the top of Jo’s head and smiled, “So soft.”

 

Dean, who was sitting on the other side of Cas, smirked over at Benny and shook his head.

“What a bunch of lighweights,” he muttered, and Benny nodded. He jerked his head toward the dark-headed man beside Dean and quirked an eyebrow. Dean just shook his head and threw him a glare. Benny snorted and stood up, “I’ll be back.” As he passed the jukebox, Jo yelled out, “Pick us a song, Benny!” Benny paused at the machine and pressed a couple of buttons before resuming his trek toward the bathroom. “Can’t Fight this Feeling” began to pour out of the old jukebox, and half the table groaned while the other half cheered.

 

“I fucking hate this song!” Pamela yelled, but Jo and Castiel were already singing along to the tune in their own off-key version.

 

“And I’m getting closer than I ever thought I might!” They both cried out, Jo jumping up on the booth seat to sing into a pretend mic. Cas crashed backwards, laughing uproariously, and landed smack against Dean. Dean’s arms went around him. Just to hold me steady, of course. Castiel reminded himself. Straight as an arrow, Dean Winchester. However, Dean didn’t seem inclined to move his arms once they were there. In fact, if anything, they were pulling Castiel closer to his chest. Castiel thought he must have drunk more than he realized if he seriously thought that Dean was trying to pull him in.

 

He thought about fighting it for a split second, but realized that he might never get this chance again. So, dammit, he was going to take advantage while he could. He leaned completely back against Dean and allowed his head to rest on the other man’s shoulder. Dean hummed contentedly and held his hands open until Cas reached down to lace his fingers with Dean’s

The others at the table hadn’t even noticed anything; they were too busy staring in shock and awe at Jo as she rounded her way into the final chorus. When the song ended, she took her bow before hopping back down into the seat and grabbing a tumbler full of liquid. Cas wasn’t sure whose glass it was or what kind of liquor it was, but Jo obviously didn’t care. She raised the glass toward Castiel and smiled widely, “To Jimmy Novak, my best friend in the whole wide world. I love you, bitch.”

 

“So fucking heartfelt.” Castiel muttered, but he raised his glass in acknowledgement. He felt Dean chuckle behind him and smiled softly. This evening might turn out better than he anticipated.

 

Eventually, Cas had to pee. It’s the circle of life. So he pushed Dean out of the booth and stumbled back toward the restroom, giggling as he walked past the jukebox and punched in the numbers for the song again. He smiled goofily when he heard Pamela’s loud groan. He walked to the bathroom, only tripping once, and took care of himself. He almost left without washing his hands, but saw the “Wash your damn hands” sign hanging on the door and turned back to wash. When he’d finished, he left the bathroom, sighing contentedly. He stopped short, though, when he saw it. Dean, pressing Lisa against the wall, kissing her hungrily. Cas squinted to make sure that he was seeing things correctly, verified that he was, then groaned inwardly. When the fuck had Lisa even arrived, anyway? That bitch. He felt his heart compress, but refused to give it the satisfaction of a pity party at the moment. He had just gotten his fucking dream job; he’d be too busy prepping for his classes in the fall to even think about dating. He had bigger fish to fry than Dean fucking Winchester, and he’d get over this silly little . . . whatever it was. Because it was definitely not a crush. Castiel did not get crushes on straight men, that was for sure. He took one more look at the couple in the corner and sighed heavily. They were really going at it.

 

“Straight as a fucking arrow.” He mumbled to himself as he headed back to their booth. So, Dean was just a touchy guy. He obviously didn’t think much of it, so Cas wouldn’t either, right? 

When they finally wrapped things up around two in the morning, Dean beckoned for Castiel to follow him, but Cas shook his head.

 

“No, I’ll get a cab. You take Lisa home.” Castiel assured him, smiling warmly to show that there were no hard feelings. Dean’s eyes widened and Cas shook his head. God, did he think Cas was blind? That he couldn’t see it?

 

“Look, I don’t feel comfortable with that. Let me drive you home.” Dean insisted, but Cas shook his head again.

 

“Dean, I am a grown-ass man, and I do not need a babysitter. Now, please, go home. I’ll phone a cab or something.” Castiel thought the argument was settled, and began to turn away, but Dean grabbed his arm and said, in the firmest voice Castiel had ever heard him use, “No! I’m your designated driver for the night, and I’m going to drive you home like I’m supposed to. Please, just get in the fucking car.”

 

Cas finally relented and allowed Dean to drive him home. Dean guided him up to his door this time because Cas was a little too unsteady to walk on his own. Castiel slumped against his door frame, trying to figure out which pocket he’d placed his keys in. Dean sighed and reached into his right pocket, removing the keys and pulling out the one he remembered the shorter man using the previous time. He opened the door and ushered Castiel inside.

 

“Oh, thank you very much, Dean. You’re such a nice guy.” Castiel slurred, grinning up at him dopily. Dean rolled his eyes and said, “Let’s get you to bed.”

 

Castiel frowned and shook his head, “Not the bed! What if I throw up?” He glanced over at the couch and jerked his head toward it, “There! I have to sleep with my head hanging over the side anyways. We’ll just put a garbage can beneath me, that way if I puke my guts out, it’ll land in the bucket, and I won’t have to clean it in the morning.” He stopped, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration. “But, if I puke my guts out, I won’t actually be alive, so I guess problem solved!” Castiel slurred, and Dean groaned.

 

“Come on, man. To the bed. I’ll stay with you for a little while to make sure you don’t die.” Dean promised as he tried to pull Castiel to the bedroom. Castiel, however, was not budging. And not because he was afraid of puking. No, because he’d caught sight of his fish tank and was watching the small fish wriggle around the tank.

 

“Dean, look at Madame Curie! She understands the meaning of life!” Castiel cried, pulling Dean to stand next to him and stare into the fish tank.

 

“Wow. That’s really something, Jimmy. Let’s get you to bed.” He tried pulling on Castiel’s arm again, but soon realized that the man was not planning on moving anytime soon. So he did the next logical thing he could think of. He picked the smaller man up bridal style and carried him further into the house.

 

“Dean! Dean, I wasn’t finished listening to Madame Curie!” Castiel complained. Dean found the bedroom and nudged the door open. The room inside was fastidiously neat, and Dean smiled because it was exactly what he had pictured. He almost laid Castiel down on the bed, but decided that maybe a cold shower would work better first. He carried him back out to the hallway toward the bathroom he’d seen and turned on the showerhead. He began to strip Castiel of his clothes, mumbling apologies at the rough behavior as Castiel kept mumbling about fish and cars and something about his father. He suddenly stood straight up, more alert than he had been.

 

“Dean! Stop trying to undress me!” Castiel exclaimed, batting his hands away.

 

“Jimmy, I’m just trying to get you into the shower so that you don’t go to bed reeking of Jose Cuervo and Jack.”

 

“I know, Dean. I know; you’re just too fucking nice for your own good.” Castiel moaned, patting the other man consolingly on the back. “You’re too nice, Dean. And that’s a problem, because when straight-as-an-arrow guys like you are this nice to gay-as-a-fucking-rainbow guys like me, it gives the wrong idea. I know you don’t mean anything by it, well my head does, but my body doesn’t. So you need to give me about five feet of space so I can keep little Castiel under control down there.”

 

Dean arched an eyebrow at him. “You named your dick after an angel?” Castiel stopped short, his eyes widening for a second as he realized his slip. Fuck, he really should not ever get drunk ever again. For now, though, he had to play this off like he was just a drunk idiot.

 

“Fuck, no one was supposed to know that I named him.” He slurred, looking down at his tented boxers. “I’m sorry, buddy.” He whispered to his crotch before stepping under the cool spray of water, still in his t-shirt and boxers.

 

“Jimmy, don’t you want to take your clothes off?”

 

“No, they’re fine. They’re fine where they are.” He knew there was no way he could remove the shirt without Dean seeing it, and once Dean saw it, he’d know the truth. He’d know in a heartbeat what Castiel really was. “Can you please go make me some water? I really need some freshly made water to drink. I’m super thirsty.” Castiel pleaded, trying to stare over at Dean with his best puppy dog eyes. Well, considering how drunk and soaked he was at the moment, it probably looked more like a pathetic Gollum impression.

 

“Fine, I’ll go make you some fresh water. Just try not to fall and crack your head before I get back,” Dean admonished. As soon as he left the bathroom, Castiel tore off his t-shirt and tossed it into the corner, along with his boxers. He really did smell bad, so he hurried to scrub himself clean of the stench before Dean returned. He shut off the shower and grabbed his robe off of the hook on the wall, sliding it on just as the door reopened. Dean’s eyes went wide as he caught an eyeful of Cas full frontal, but Cas didn’t really care about hiding anything up front. He just grinned flirtatiously as he cinched his robe shut and stumbled forward to grab the cup of water from Dean. He took several long gulps before he set the empty glass down on the sink counter and walked back to his bedroom.

 

Dean followed behind and made sure Castiel was tucked snugly under the covers. He smiled as he smoothed the wild hair back from his forehead and pressed a gentle kiss there.

 

“See, that’s the kind of stuff I’m talking about.” Cas mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open as the warmth from the blankets overtook him.

 

“What stuff?”

 

“The stuff where my head says, ‘No, don’t fall for that. He’s just being . . . a good friend. You saw how he was with Lisa earlier,’ but my heart . . . my heart says, ‘But what if there’s more there,’ and my dick says, ‘Who cares? Let’s bone.’ It throws my body into mass confusion and none of them can figure out what they wanna do with you, and it’s very upsetting for me internally—” He drifted off on this last word, his eyes finally falling shut.

 

Dean sighed and ran his hand through his hair. God, when had he turned into such a dick? He liked Jimmy, a lot. Too much, in fact. In the bar earlier, the guy had barely leaned back against him, and Dean had completely blanked. He knew that if he ever actually slept with Jimmy, that would be it. It’d be end game for him. And Dean, being the selfish bastard that he was, wasn’t ready for end game yet. He couldn’t be. So, when he’d seen Lisa there, flirting, convenient, he hadn’t hesitated to let her pull him into a kiss. Because that was supposed to help clear his mind. But it hadn’t.

 

“Yeah, me too, baby. Me too.”

 

Castiel awoke the next morning to an empty apartment, which he was incredibly grateful for. He remembered bits and pieces from the night before, and knew that he could never face Dean. He would never face Dean again, of that he was certain. He groaned as the light from outside peeked into his room, setting his head pounding. He rolled over onto his side, only then catching sight of the aspirin, water bottle, and note on his night stand. J- Sorry I couldn’t stay, had work. Feel better soon. Call to let me know you’re okay. –Dean. Underneath was a number that Castiel definitely would not ever be using. He groaned again and shoved his pillow over his head, trying to block out the light and sounds.

 

He woke up again around noon, and the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was that damn note. Why the fuck would he leave his number there? Why did he have to be such a nice guy? Why couldn’t he let Castiel die a miserable death in peace? Castiel shoved the pillow against his face and screamed out his frustration.

 

He grabbed the water bottle and aspirin, chasing the pills with half the water before he even tried to leave the bed. He determined to throw the note with the number away, that way he wouldn’t be tempted to call nice, straight guys and fall into the trap of best gay friend. He picked up the note and carried it into the bathroom with him, intending to flush it down the toilet . . . after he showered, of course. The note would still be there to throw away after his shower. After he’d showered and wrapped himself back up in his robe, he stuffed the note into his pocket and headed to the kitchen, intending to throw the note away there. Maybe he’d drop it down the garbage disposal . . . after he made himself some breakfast. He kept at this for a full hour before he decided that there was no way he was going to throw the fucking note away. He pulled out his phone and tapped the number in, saving it into his contacts. He then pressed the call button and raised the phone to his ear, anxiously holding his breath. He almost sighed in relief when it went to voicemail. He waited for the beep and said, “Hey, Dean. It’s, uh, Jimmy. Just wanted to let you know that I’m okay; I didn’t die at any point during the night. So, uh, thanks for all your help. Yeah, thanks. Bye.” He grimaced as he hung up, wondering if he could have sounded any more like a bumbling idiot. Not that it mattered, because there was nothing happening there. Ever. He shook his head at his own idiocy and trudged over to the couch, flipping on the T.V. He never got to watch television during the school year, but now that summer was in full swing, he intended to spend the first week doing nothing but catching up on his favorite shows. He’d purchased full seasons of his favorite shows to watch, and dammit, he was not leaving this house until he had. He went to press the source button on the remote, when his finger froze at the picture on the screen.

 

The news anchor’s voice had taken on a sad note.

 

“Chicago residents are devastated this morning by the death of one of their primary citizens, Charles Shurley.” The cameras flashed to the front of the Shurley home, well, the front gates of the Shurley home, because that was the closest that the cameras ever got. The gates opened as a long procession of black cars entered the grounds. “Close family and friends are flooding in to offer condolences to the grieving family. Charles, a man known simply as the Father throughout the Chicago community, spent his entire career shrouded in controversy. Sometimes viewed as a benevolent father who gave much toward the city’s educational system, other times as a dark ruler rumored to contribute to the illegal gun trade within the city. He was the overseer of a vast empire of companies both local and global, and many are speculating on who will step up to claim his mantle. Funeral details are unavailable at this time.” She then moved on to another news story, but Castiel wasn’t listening. He stared at the screen blankly, his mind reeling with the news. His father was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So last chapter, we got to see buzzed Cas. Well, in this chapter, we're upgrading that to full-on shit-faced Castiel. Enjoy the drunken shenanigans and angst and what not. 
> 
> As always, feel free to comment if you notice any gaping plot-holes or discrepancies, or if you just want to leave a nice note!! 
> 
> Enjoy reading!


	4. Planning Makes Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team make arrangements for Cas to return home
> 
> See end of chapter for notes.

Bobby rubbed a hand over his eyes, groaning at the headache that was building behind them. The entire morning had been chaos. Intel was constantly streaming into the office, but more so than usual this morning. Charles had finally passed on, leaving the head spot in Chicago wide open for the taking. Already there were turf wars cropping up all over the inner city, sectors within the Family who were fighting for dominance. His supervisor, Henriksen, was currently hosting a video conference with him and five other heads of the surrounding FBI offices. Dean sat in the corner, listening in on the call.

 

“At this point, we cannot cut off the Family. They’ll just divide into smaller factions that will be impossible to control. No, the best chance we have is to get someone we know and trust into that spot, someone who can break it apart from the inside.” Jody argued from her small screen. Rufus shook his head emphatically.

 

“Dammit, Mills, don’t you understand? The Family has valuable resources that we can use to improve our city! So, yes, let’s get a guy in there that we can trust, but instead of breaking apart the organization, let’s turn the purpose around on its head. Get them working for us, instead.”

 

“So, we’ll allow the Family to carry on with their illegal gun trading that causes needless deaths every year in the name of resources? Is that what you’re fucking suggesting, Turner?” Her voice rose with each syllable until she was yelling. Bobby just rolled his eyes and let them fight it out.

 

“Both options are plausible at this point,” Henriksen interrupted. “Right now, though, we just need to get a foot in the door. Singer, you’ve still got tabs on the asset?”

 

“The asset? Are you serious right now?” Bobby asked incredulously.

 

“Yes, Singer, I’m very serious. We helped him out back when, now it’s time he returned the favor.”

 

“But by pulling him into this mess, we’re negating every bit of help we ever gave to him! What kind of payback do you call that?” Bobby argued, but Victor simply shook his head.

 

“Bobby, we knew there was a chance he’d have to return one day. He knew there was a chance when he agreed to let us help. He’s been off living his happy little life for years now, enjoying his freedom, but now the bill’s come due.”

 

“Oh, and what do you expect will happen when he returns? Or better yet, afterwards? Are we just going to leave him there to rot again?”

 

“Of course not. If he chooses, we can get him back into witness protection. Whole new setup. We’ll put him up in the fucking Rockies if he wants. But he needs to help us now.”

 

Bobby rubbed his forehead and groaned. Ellen was going to kill him. He ended the call and agreed to speak to the boy.

 

Dean finally spoke up, his voice rough, “Bobby, who the hell is the asset?” But the truth was, he already knew. He’d known the second he heard Victor say the word.

 

“What? No, absolutely not!” Jo yelled, her entire body shaking with fury. Cas, Jo, Bobby, and Ellen were sitting around the Singers’ kitchen table. Bobby had called Cas over as soon as the conference call had ended. Cas had known the moment his phone rang what was coming. He’d been so tempted to run, to take off to Vermont or Vera Cruz and hide out until the end of fucking time, but he’d answered. Cas held a bottle of beer between trembling fingers, studying each drop of perspiration as it rolled down the glass bottle. His blood was pounding in his ears, his eyes were itchy and bloodshot from incessant crying, and his entire body would randomly convulse. He couldn’t go back there. I can’t go back there. They’ll fucking kill me. They will end me. I can’t go back there. The words kept replaying themselves in his mind, repeating like a mantra that would not stop.

 

“Jo, I don’t like this any more than you do, but Henriksen’s right. When we helped Cas escape, there were conditions with it.”

 

“Conditions? You were helping a teenager escape from a life-threatening environment, and you put conditions on him?” Ellen interjected, her eyes narrowing.

 

“They had to.” Cas mumbled. None of the Singers heard him; instead, they kept yelling at each other.

 

“My best friend is not going back to that prison. No, if he goes back, they won’t ever let him leave again.”

 

“And even if they let him leave, there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to come back here to us, to his family!” Ellen pointed out.

 

“I don’t have a choice in the matter, my hands are tied.”

 

“By these fucking conditions?” Ellen yelled.

 

“They had to put the conditions on there.” Castiel repeated, this time loudly enough to be heard.

 

“What?” Jo asked, her mouth thinning into a thin line. Ellen silenced as well while Bobby took another sip of his coffee.

 

“By the time I approached them for extraction, I’d already headed up multiple drug shipments; I’d been the one to call hits; I’d been the one to betray and lie and cheat.” He saw Jo’s eyes widen as her mind processed this new information. He dropped is head to his chest and felt the tears start up again, but he kept speaking. “I was a big up and comer in my world. Jo, you once said how could people believe I was so innocent when in reality I was so evil. You were right. That’s why the family used me. I had a hand in killing people; mind you, it was always other drug dealers and such, never any innocents, but I had a hand in that. I was responsible for men and women’s blood, and I knew before I approached the bureau that I wouldn’t get out scotch free. So, yes, there were fucking conditions, but there had to be. I wouldn’t have taken their help otherwise.”

 

“Why?” Ellen asked, her eyes wide.

 

“Because nothing ever comes free, Ellen. First rule of my world. And if they had offered the clean slate to me free, I wouldn’t have trusted them for shit. Bobby knew that, as did Henriksen, so they offered me a deal I could accept. And god, I wish I could say yes, Bobby. I wish I could pay you back for everything, but I – I can’t.” Castiel forced the words out, his whole body shaking. Ellen said something else, Jo started yelling again, but Castiel couldn’t focus on any of it. His breathing grew heavy again and his vision narrowed, his entire body hunching in on itself.

 

The panic attacks had stopped after about seven months of Jimmy; for seven months, Castiel had jumped at every noise, hidden from every shadow, and suffered through multiple panic attacks a week, until finally it clicked in his brain that he was home free, that if they were going to find him and kill him, they would have done so already. And he hadn’t had anything close to a panic attack since then. People had always commented that nothing ever phased him, that he never seemed stressed, but that was because he knew what true stress was. This shit storm, this was stress. He tried to find something to focus on again, but the water droplets weren’t working this time. And then his hip started buzzing. He focused on the sound, pulling in deep breaths in time to the buzzing, until he felt himself calm down. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and glanced down at the screen, and he felt his eyes widen. Fuck. He would have to do this.

 

“Well, we can’t just stick him back in there. That’ll be too suspicious.” Benny said as they discussed the logistics in the office conference room the next day.

 

 

“Not if we play it right.” Castiel said from his position at the end of the conference table. He glanced over at Bobby. “If I wanted to return to, say, gloat that I’d made it without the family’s help, they’d believe it. If there’s one thing the family is known for, it’s pride. I could claim that I’d wanted to make it on my own, be my own man, and that I’d done so.”

 

“Yeah, but by returning, does that mean you’re moving back into the fold?” Dean asked, staring down at the folder in his hand. He’d refused to make eye contact with Castiel all morning, and Cas could understand why.

 

“Not if I have a life waiting for me. If I’m engaged, they’ll know that it really is just a matter of pride for me, and when the weekend’s over, I’ll leave with the rest of the guests.”

 

“This fiancé of yours, that’ll be our in.” Bobby said. “I’ll have Pamela play your—”

 

“Pamela won’t work.” Castiel cut him off. Bobby just quirked his eyebrow at him, and Castiel pulled a deep sigh. So much for keeping his secret. “This is my family, Bobby; they know everything about me.”

 

“And?” Bobby asked impatiently.

 

“And Castiel Shurley is not a ladies’ man.” Castiel said, trying to make Bobby understand without actually saying it.

 

“And?” Bobby reiterated.

 

“Oh my god, really Bobby? He’s gay!” Dean finally burst out. The entire room fell into shocked silence at the outburst. Even Dean seemed surprised at himself. Dean stared at Castiel, worried he’d crossed a line; Castiel stared at Bobby, worried about the older man’s reaction; Bobby stared straight ahead for several long moments before groaning.

 

“What?” Castiel asked anxiously.

 

“Dammit, boy, why didn’t you tell me that sooner? Now I owe Ellen an expensive night out on the town.” Bobby groused. Castiel stared at him for a solid ten seconds before he burst into laughter. Benny and Pamela joined in, and Dean actually chuckled.

 

“No wonder the girl from across the street didn’t work. I mean, she was such a perfect match. Well, not perfect, I guess.” Bobby glanced over at Castiel apologetically. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

 

“I felt it was my business.” Castiel responded matter-of-factly. Bobby seemed to consider his answer for a moment before nodding. “Okay, so new plan. We’ll send . . .”

 

“Me.” Dean said from his seat; he was staring steadfastly down at the folder in his hands, refusing to make eye contact with anybody. Bobby glanced over at Castiel, surprise etched onto his features. Castiel, however, was suddenly staring down at this hands resolutely. Why did Dean have to volunteer? Cas was already having problems with not viewing him romantically; Dean playing his fiancé for a weekend was not going to help with that, dammit. Bobby waited for Castiel to protest, but Castiel said nothing. What would he say? Sorry, Dean, I’m too into you; I’d probably end up blurring the lines between fiction and reality and you’d hate me for it. 

 

“So, Dean will accompany Castiel home.” Bobby finally said after several moments of silence. “We’ll have Sammy create some backstory for you both.”

 

“Make sure he’s rich.” Castiel mumbled, and Bobby quirked an eyebrow. Cas sighed, already regretting this first glimpse they’d have of the person he used to be. “Castiel Shurley never went for a guy worth less than seven digits.” And then he stood and hurried out of the office, desperate for some space.

 

“Make me rich, then.” Dean murmured, standing to follow Cas out. He found the other man standing over a sink in the bathroom, gripping the edges of the basin. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hair mussed like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly, and his skin looked chalky.

 

“Look, Jim—Cas, I mean. I know that this—” Dean began, but Cas cut him off.

 

“Dean, I just want to say now that I am so sorry for this.”

 

 

“Sorry?” Dean asked, his eyes narrowing, and Cas nodded minutely, his eyes meeting Dean’s in the mirror.

 

“The man you’ll see this weekend at my home, he’s, uh, he’s not a good guy. Castiel Shurley was a terrible person.” Cas looked back down into the sink, his arms shaking with tension.

 

“Cas, you were just a teenager.”

 

“Yeah, and I was already next in line for the crown.” Cas whispered raggedly. “I was ruthless, Dean, absolutely ruthless. I lied and cheated and fucked my way to the top of the line. And the worst part was, I was loved for it. My father loved that I was willing to go to such lengths to prove myself for his cause, and I basked in that. I basked in the knowledge that I, the favored son, was loved more than any other.”

 

“Cas, that wasn’t your fault. You were just a kid; every kid wants to make their dad proud. You are not the one to blame; your father is. And, obviously, something changed, since you wanted to get out.” Dean was trying to appease his conscience, but Cas chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head.

 

“Dean, I got out because I nearly killed an innocent man.” Cas admitted. Dean said nothing, just stared at him, waiting for him to explain. Cas drew in a ragged breath. “I was in charge of all exchanges on the east side of the city. One night in September, we had a huge shipment coming in. This shipment was worth more than all three of my cars combined; I remember joking with one of my men that I needed another couple of cars in my garage. But I wasn’t really happy or anything; I was tense, anxious. I’d never handled a shipment like this before, and something felt off the entire time.” Cas took another deep breath, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “The truck had just arrived, and we were unloading it, when it happened. A priest from the parish around the corner had heard one a couple of the men shouting and came to check. I don’t know why the hell he would have been so stupid; he knew that it was Family territory. He had to have known some of the shit that went down there. But, despite that, he chose to walk into a dark alleyway to check out some shouting, and I was the first person who saw him. It was dark, I didn’t see what he was wearing, I didn’t know. I panicked and shot him.” Castiel fell into silence. He paused for a couple moments, gathering himself, before he was able to continue. “I had shot a holy man of God, and he was dying in the middle of a dark alleyway with no one there to see him go but a couple of thugs and a spoiled fuckboy. When I realized what I’d done, I drove him to the hospital, claimed to be a member of his congregation who’d seen him get shot on the street. I was young and innocent looking; they believed me. They were able to fix him up, and the day after that, I contacted Bobby. I don’t remember how I had his number, but I did. I met with him and told him everything, told him that I needed to get out. I asked him to arrest me, but he wouldn’t. He said the same things you said,” Cas shot Dean a distressed look. “Told me that it wasn’t totally my fault. That I had the chance to turn things around. He and Henrikson agreed to help me escape on the condition that I would give them information and that, when the time came, I would go back and help them break apart the Family, for good.”

 

“So, now you’re going back.” Dean murmured, and Cas nodded.

 

“I’m going back.”

 

Sam threw a folder down onto the table in front of Dean and another in front of Cas. They were back in the conference room, but it was now just the three of them. The others had headed out to take care of other projects for the time being.

 

“You,” Sam pointed at Dean, “are Dean Smith, a wealthy investment banker from New York City. You work at Sandover Investments, a small, exclusive firm that’s doing very well. You’re in line for the CEO spot once the old man retires, and you’re worth seven figures.” He turned his attention to Cas. “You are, of course, yourself. You’ve spent the last several years traveling the globe, never staying in one country more than seven months, although you have returned to some countries. You’re quite partial to Italy.” He smirked before moving on. “The entire twelve years is laid out for you there in your folder.” Dean rolled his eyes and made a motion for Sam to continue. “The two of you met in Tahiti about thirteen months ago. Dean, you were there to meet with a client who was on vacation; Cas, you were being your usual vagabond gypsy self. You fell into a torrid love affair,” He smirked again while Dean groaned. “And since then it has been a whirlwind of love and passion for you both. Dean, you popped the question in Italy last month at the villa you two keep on lease there.”

 

“Ooh, a villa.” Dean said lasciviously, wiggling his eyebrows at Cas. Cas just snorted and looked back down at his folder.

 

 

“Anyways, you own a couple of properties together; you have a couple of cars, nothing too extravagant.”

 

“Uh, that’s going to have to change.” Cas interjected. He smirked at the Lexus and Cadillac listed under his name and shook his head. “Castiel Shurley loved fast cars.” Dean had noticed that, besides earlier in the bathroom, whenever Cas talked about his old life, he always talked about that Castiel like he was a different person. He didn’t comment on it, though; it was his way of creating distance from that life. Castiel continued speaking. “He owned three of them, all luxury sports models, and two Italian bikes. He took one of the bikes with him when he escaped.” Dean’s eyebrows were nearly to his hairline. He tried to shift in his seat subtly, the thought of Castiel behind the wheel of a fast, expensive car doing terrible things to his jeans.

 

“Wait, what kind of cars did you own?” Sam asked, his own curiosity piqued as well.

 

“Uh, a Maserati, a Berlinetta, some sort of Ferrari, and the bikes were Ducati and Vyrus.”

 

“Holy fuck.” Dean choked out. “Which bike did you take with you?”

 

“The Ducati. It’s in a storage unit up near Indianapolis.”

 

“Some sort of Ferrari?” Sam asked. Cas shrugged. It was a bigger statement on the life he used to lead than he could have known. The brothers exchanged quick wide-eyed glances, but Castiel saw it. He saw the hesitation there, the uncertainty that they were putting their trust in the right person. And he knew in that moment that when this was all over, he would love Dean, and Dean would hate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I know, someone's probably thinking, "Wow, Madam! You posted four chapters in one day!" Why, yes; yes, I did. I wrote a lot in my first sitting, and now I get to post what I have. But, alack, this is going to be the final chapter for a while. Because I'm in the midst of summer school, I won't have time to write anything else for a while. 
> 
> Anyways, NOTES! Here's where we really start to see a whole different side of Cas, and let me tell you, his past was painful to write. That being said, if you notice any plot holes or discrepancies, please LET ME KNOW! I'd rather have my mistakes made known unto me than allow incorrect works to remain on the interweb for the world to see. 
> 
> As always, please enjoy, and don't hesitate to drop me a note (unless you hate it, because then I'd rather not know).


	5. There's No Place Like Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets his first view of Cas's home life, Cas has way too many reunions for one day. Not the best way to spend a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had some extra time over the holiday weekend, so I finished four more chapters! Yay! But then I didn't like two of them, so I rewrote them. Double yay!!
> 
> As always, hope you enjoy!

That Sunday afternoon, Dean tried not to gape too much at the imposing wrought-iron gates as they drove through the wide entrance to the Shurley mansion, a building that took up five city lots. He glanced over at Cas, who was driving the Porsche they’d acquired for this trip; he face was purposefully impassive.

 

“You doing okay, man?” He asked. Cas had thrown up twice on the plane ride, and at the time he’d blamed it on the flying, but Dean knew. No one should be this afraid to return to their childhood home, and he’d wanted nothing more than to pull Cas close and assure him that everything was going to be all right. But he knew that Cas wouldn’t want that, wouldn’t appreciate being lied to. Because they’d both know it was a lie, so what was the point? Plus, the drive there had apparently helped to ease some of his fear. By the time he’d typed in the code to the keypad that opened the gates, his face had lost all expression. He looked . . . dangerous. 

 

“I’ll be fine. I just need to . . . man up.” Castiel murmured, setting his jaw and clenching his fist around the steering wheel.

 

“Cas, there’s nothing wrong with being scared. I mean, honestly, they might be a little suspicious if you aren’t.” Cas smiled at Dean softly and shook his head.

 

“The favored son doesn’t show fear, Dean. It’s what earned him his authority, his respect. He was the first one into every situation.”

 

“Why do you keep going on and on about this favored son? Was that, like, a code name or something?” Dean asked, eyes drawn to the large mansion in the distance.

 

“Yes, I guess you could call it that. We all have them.” Castiel explained, his own eyes roaming around restlessly.

 

“We all?”

 

“Yes, my uncles and cousins and I. My uncles were brothers, and all of my cousins were sons. We have the Subtle Son, that’s Lucifer; the Honored Son, that’s Michael; the Entitled Son, that’s Gabe. We also have single-word codenames; I’m the favorite, Lucifer’s the serpent, Michael’s the sword, Gabe’s the trickster. There are plenty of others, but we were the main four. We were going to lead the Family to a bright, new era. Peace in our time, they said, which to Michael and Lucifer, was just another name for tyranny. They both wanted that crown, and they both fought for it.”

 

“But you were going to receive it?” Dean confirmed, and Castiel nodded.

 

“By the time I was seventeen, I had three politicians in the Father’s pocket, along with a multitude of other higher ups. I charmed and fucked with the best of them.” Castiel sighed wearily, his mind going back to when he was a teen and already had multiple men vying for his affection. He’d tease and flirt and drop hints about earning favor with the Father to earn his favorite son. The men would have done nearly anything to claim Castiel as theirs, and Cas knew and used it. “That was the problem with the others; they didn’t understand what people really wanted. Michael used brunt force, commanding people to give them his respect and allegiance. Lucifer offered them power, but at a price. He never lied; that was his guarantee when he drew them. He’d say, ‘I’ll never lie to you,’ and he’d tell them his price. But me, I just promised them me, a pretty boy to do whatever they wanted. That was all I needed, and I always made good on my promises.”

 

Dean shifted uncomfortably, for the first time realizing the implications of Castiel’s earlier statement about being a fuckboy. What kind of father would let their son do that, all for a little more money and power? As they drew nearer to the mansion, Dean couldn’t help how his jaw dropped.

 

“Holy fuck, you grew up here?” He asked with disbelief. Castiel simply nodded, unable to speak. He pulled up the long drive to the front of the house, and put the car into park right by the front steps. He looked over at Dean, his eyes apologetic as he whispered once again, “I’m sorry.” And then he opened his door and stepped out.

 

Dean followed and waited by his side of the car until Castiel came to stand next to him. He reached down and linked their fingers, smiling reassuringly at his fiancé. Castiel smiled back and squeezed his hand before turning his attention back to the imposing house. He began climbing up the front steps, each one like a blow to his stomach. Just as they reached the top, the front door opened, and a stern-looking woman emerged.

 

“Castiel.” She said in greeting. If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t give any indication.

 

“Aunt Naomi.” He replied, his voice steady and sure. A cocky smile played at the corner of his mouth.

 

“I assume you’ve come to pay your respects?” Her voice was high and cold, unwavering, uncaring. Castiel nodded but offered nothing more. “Well, are you going to introduce your friend here?”

 

“This is my fiancé, Dean Smith.” Castiel supplied, glancing over at Dean and giving a small smile. She studied Dean for a long moment, and Dean tried not to let his discomfort show. She finally nodded. 

 

“Come with me then. The rest of the family will be . . . anxious to see you, I suppose. ” She turned and walked back inside, leaving the two men to follow. As they walked inside, Dean’s eyes swept over the large foyer, comparing his prior knowledge based off of Castiel’s description to what he saw. From this entry hall, they could access most of the main rooms like the lower lounge, the large dining room, and the library. There were other rooms that branched off of those rooms, like the game room, the office, and the indoor theater. The kitchen was at the back of the house, adjacent to the small dining room. There was also a staircase at the back of the house that led down to the garage. There were seven bedrooms up on the second and third floors; those were accessed through the main staircase that took up the center of the large entry hall they were walking through now. There were also a pool and spa somewhere in the house, and the grounds held multiple gardens and a guest house, but Dean had zoned out after Cas started describing the layout of the upper levels. This was too fucking much for one family.

 

Dean could hear the low murmur conversation as they drew nearer to the lower lounge, and he felt Castiel’s hand stiffen in his. He squeezed it reassuringly, but his own heart was beating out a fast rhythm as they followed Naomi into the full room. It only took a second for them to be noticed; all conversation ceased almost immediately, and Dean tried to fight the blush that was rising on his neck.

 

“Oh, please. Don’t stop your gossiping on my account.” Castiel said, his voice bored and flat. He sighed wearily and stepped further into the room, “Yes, I’m alive. No, I haven’t had a sex change . . . yet.” He pointed over at Dean, whose hand was still linked with his. “This is my fiancé, Dean Smith. Yes, he’s filthy rich. No, you can’t have him, Gabriel.” He held his index finger up toward a short, golden-eyed man who’d opened his mouth to speak. The man stared at Castiel for a solid five seconds before his face broke out into the most mischievous grin that Dean had ever seen.

 

“Cassie!” He cried, moving forward with his arms open for a hug. He wrapped Castiel up in a tight grip, squeezing for good measure. “Good to see you back, brother.” He whispered softly. Cas smiled at him, and Dean saw the genuine affection in his eyes. He moved to stand in front of Dean and held out his arms, “Dean, as your future brother-in-law, it’s only right that I give you a welcoming hug.” Dean glanced over at Cas, who nodded and rolled his eyes. Gabe jumped in and wrapped his arms around Dean, like he had Cas, but he started rubbing Dean’s back, sighing softly. “So firm!”

 

“Get off my fiancé, Gabe.” Castiel said after several seconds, and the shorter man stepped back, immediately holding his hands out in front of him in an appeasing manner. He moved back to stand next to Castiel and threw his arm around his shoulders, turning to face the rest of the family.

 

“Everybody, raise your glass. Our brother who was lost has now returned, and it’s something to be celebrated, no?” He motioned to a man standing in a white shirt and vest off to the side, and the man rushed forward with a tray of drinks. Gabe handed two to Cas and Dean and took one for himself. He raised his glass toward the two men, grinning happily. “To the favored son!”

 

“To the favored son.” A strong voice responded, and Dean glanced up to see a tall, sandy-haired man stepping up on the other side of them. He smiled knowingly at Cas before tipping his goblet back and downing the contents.

 

“To the favored son.” The rest of the group echoed before sipping from their own glass.

 

“To the prodigal son.” Castiel murmured, throwing back the contents of his glass. After that, it all flowed so naturally, it was unnerving. Was it normal for long-dead relatives to pop up at family gatherings? Dean kept close to Cas’s side, slipping a possessive arm around him as they were moved from group to group, everyone eager to hear the story of the prodigal son now returned. Castiel leaned into Dean, allowing his own arm to slip around his back.

 

“You’re doing great.” Dean murmured against his temple as two of Castiel’s heavily intoxicated aunts were shuffled away by their embarrassed children.

 

“Thanks.” Cas whispered back, smiling softly. Right then, a stir rose up from the door to the room, and they turned to find two young women standing there, a red-head and a brunette.

 

“Castiel!” The red-headed lady called out, rushing forward.

 

“Anna.” Castiel replied, relief tinging his tone as he finally removed his arm from around Dean and moved forward to draw her into a hug. They stood there for a good twenty seconds, saying nothing, simply holding each other. She finally drew back and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. He smiled fondly and shook his head. “I was worried when I didn’t see you.”

 

“I was upstairs feeding the baby.” She explained, and Castiel’s eyebrows shot up.

 

“The baby, as in, your baby?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“As in, you have offspring?” Castiel clarified, and she laughed, swatting him on the shoulder.

 

“It’s not so unbelievable!” She defended. Castiel took hold of her left hand and brought it up for inspection, studying the ring that rested on her fourth finger.

 

“Who’s the lucky man?” He asked, and she pointed over at a taller, dark-haired man. “Ah, Michael. Figures. He always had his eye on you, ever since you hit that growth spurt in ninth grade.” Cas teased, and she blushed. She looked at Dean, who stood off to the side, watching their reunion.

 

“Who’s this?” She asked, her own eyebrows notching up. Cas reached out to Dean, who moved forward to take his hand.

 

“Anna, this is my fiancé, Dean. Dean, this is Anna. She was my best friend and partner in crime from birth on.” He introduced. Dean smiled as he shook her hand, “Pleased to meet you, Anna.” Just then, the brunette woman stepped forward, having been watching the entire reunion with an impassive expression.

 

“Castiel.” She murmured, holding her hand out to him. He took the offered hand and kissed the top. “Ruby. Always so good to see you.” She turned her attention to Dean and reached up to run a finger along his jawline.

 

“Would you look at this one? You could cut glass on that jawline.” Cas rolled his eyes and batted her hand away. “No touching my stuff, Ruby.” Dean chuckled at the childishness of the phrase, earning glares from Cas and Ruby.

 

“Tell me, Dean, what do you do? It must be something downright filthy to have earned our favored son’s hand.” Ruby asked, her tone deceptively light. Dean smiled at her, “I’m an investment banker. So, yes, I guess you could say something filthy.”

 

“Oh, he has a tongue! Where’d you find him, Cas. I want one.”

 

“Walmart.” Castiel intoned, his face bored. Anna chuckled and stepped between them, “Behave, children. Ruby, why don’t you go check on Luci, make sure he’s doing okay; you know how he gets at these things. Or, maybe you could show Dean around, introduce him to the others.” She suggested. Ruby’s smile resembled that of the Cheshire cat as she latched onto Dean’s arm and pulled him away. Once they had wandered off, Anna took Castiel’s hand and began to pull him toward the double doors that led out to the gardens where they could talk away from prying ears. Once they were outside, they moved a good distance out into the garden and sat down on a low bench.

 

“Castiel, what are you doing back here?” Anna whispered harshly. “You promised me that if you ever got away, you would never come back.”

 

“And you promised me that you would never let your father sell you to the highest bidder.” Castiel hissed back at her, jerking his head down toward her ring. “So, it looks like we’ve both broken promises tonight.”

 

“My father didn’t sell me. I agreed to this.” Anna looked down at her hands in her lap, tears welling in her eyes. Cas immediately settled, regretting his angry tone. He reached forward to take her hand, rubbing the back with his thumb. She sniffled as she spoke. “You have no idea what it was like, after you left. The crackdown was horrible. The entire city was in upheaval, because the Father had suddenly lost all of your . . . men, Mayor Todd, Commissioner Franklin, Crowley, all of them. Without you there, he had nothing to control them with. He practically tore the city apart looking for you. Michael, Gabe, and Luci were desperate, because they knew that the one to bring you back would be the one to earn the Father’s favor. Well, Michael and Luci thought that; I think Gabe was genuinely worried about you.” Anna explained, and Castiel smiled. That sounded about right. “They thought I knew where you were, and they kept trying to get me to tell them. They wouldn’t believe me when I said that I didn’t know anything! But of all of the brothers, Michael was the most kind. He seemed to understand that I was actually suffering, that I was in pain. So when he asked me to marry him, I said yes. And he is so good to me, Castiel, to us. Gen is the most perfect little girl you’ll ever see; you’ll love her, I know it.”

 

“I would love her even if she had twelve fingers and three eyeballs, Anna. But considering her gene pool, I think she’ll probably end up on the cover of Vogue by the time she reaches puberty.” Anna sniffled as she giggled. She fell silent for a moment before looking back up at Castiel, “Why are you really back here? I know you didn’t come back to pay respects; you hated the old man.”

 

“I didn’t hate him, Anna. I loved him, far too much. You, of all people, know how much I gave for him.” He released a heavy sigh. “And then, one night, I realized that it was too much. It was unhealthy and unsafe and a million other things. So, I got out. Traveled around the world. I was very careful, using a different name in each place. And then, last year, I met Dean. And he was so fucking perfect, Anna. From the very first moment I saw him, I knew that he was it.” Castiel halted at the truth of those words. He’d barely met Dean the month before, but he’d known even then that Dean was going to be his downfall. He continued on, but there were no more lies. “He is the most perfect man I’ve ever known, and he makes me want to be a better man. And part of being a better man is owning up to myself; I couldn’t run anymore. I just couldn’t.”

 

“So now you’re back.”

 

“Now I’m back.”

 

Dean watched the two former best friends move out toward the patio and stiffened. He didn’t like not having eyes on Cas, but it’s not like he could really go after them. He was supposed to look like a loving fiancé, not a possessive FBI agent with his asset.

 

“Oh, don’t worry about them.” Ruby murmured, tightening her grip on his arm. Dean glanced down at her, grimacing. She grinned mischievously and indicated toward the patio with her chin, “Those two have always been sneaking off, plotting, planning. They were the most mischievous little fuckers when we were growing up.” She took another sip of her champagne before adding in a flippant tone, “For a while, everyone thought they would end up together. But then Cas started fucking around with the big boys, and that was it.” Dean knew about Cas’s method for drawing in marks, but he didn’t like being reminded of it. Ruby saw the discomfort that flickered across his face, and she smirked. “Ah, so you do know about our beloved favorite’s . . . preferences.”

 

“He mentioned.” Dean ground out. Ruby chuckled viciously and pulled Dean toward a couch in a secluded corner. She sat them both down, her hand a little too high on Dean’s thigh, and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

 

“Tell me, Dean Smith. Why has the favored son really returned?” Her lips were very close to his ear, and Dean tried to shift away, but she just shifted with him. He opened his mouth to respond with their planned answer, about Cas mourning his father, but Ruby cut him off. “And don’t give me that shit about Cas mourning the Father’s death; he probably threw a party when he found out the bastard was dead. No, I want you to tell me the real reason. Why, just when the entire family hierarchy is in upheaval, has the favorite returned? Is he here to reclaim his inheritance, his crown? It wouldn’t surprise me if he is; he always was a power-hungry little bitch.”

 

Dean stiffened, first with anger at her words, but then another emotion began to filter in as his mind returned to that afternoon in the bathroom, when Cas had told him about his past. He’d claimed that he didn’t want any part of the family, but this evening, when they’d walked into the lion’s den, he’d blended right in. He’d smiled and teased and hugged his brothers and kissed his aunts. He’d been everything that he needed to be; there’d been no hesitation, no fear. In fact, there’d been something there in his eyes, something carnal and hungry. And Dean realized that Cas, no matter how much he claimed that he wanted out, thrived on the power he held within this family. What if he decided that he’d missed it? What if he decided to screw them all over in the end? But just as these doubts flooded his mind, another memory arose from that afternoon in the bathroom of Cas grabbing his arm tightly and pinning him down with red-rimmed eyes.

 

“Please, don’t let them leave me there,” He’d pleaded, his voice barely a broken whisper, his eyes desperate. “Promise me!” And Dean had promised him.

 

Dean’s attention was pulled back to Ruby as she continued speaking, “Because if he is here to reclaim the throne, he should know that he’ll have to fight for it. Michael and Lucifer have staked their claim, and they won’t let it go so easily. This right here,” she indicated toward the family and friends assembled in the room, “it’s just people picking sides.”


	6. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another typical dinner with your mob family. No big. Our boys have got this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo! So just a warning, Cas does have a minor meltdown in this chapter, but no worries! Dean is there to help him through it. 
> 
> Also, I am completely bullshitting on all the cop stuff; I relied primarily on what I learned from Psych. Whaaaat!
> 
> In case you haven't noticed, I have gotten a bit more creative with my titles; this is the name of a movie, if I remember right. 
> 
> As always, enjoy!

Ruby suddenly pulled away from Dean, her hand sliding off his thigh, and glanced up at the man who’d come to stand in front of them. “Gabe.” She stated flatly.

 

“Ruby, go sharpen your claws somewhere else for a little while. I need to talk to my future brother-in-law.” Gabe didn’t even look at her as he spoke; his eyes were locked onto Dean. Ruby stood gracefully and walked away, throwing a quick wink at Dean over Gabe’s shoulder. Gabe plopped down into the empty space and threw his arms over the back of the couch, spreading out. He grinned over at Dean. “So, Dean-o! Tell me, how did you meet my baby brother?”

 

“Uh, I was on vacation in Tahiti, well a meet-with-a-client vacation, and I met Cas at this little bar down on the beach. And, uh, it kinda slid downhill from there.” Dean explained, smiling fondly at the fake memory. 

 

“Well, isn’t that sweet?” Gabe commented, but his eyes were sharp on Dean’s face. He suddenly sat forward in his seat and wrapped an arm around Dean’s neck to pull him in close. What was with this family and personal space? Gabe began whispering against his ear, “I don’t know who you are or which agency you work for, and I don’t really care. But I do know that Cas would never have come back to the Family for any reason, not unless he was absolutely forced to, and I do care about him. So I’m not going to say this once: don’t fuck with my little brother. He does have some dignity within this family, and the last thing he needs is for his fiancé,” Gabe bit out the word condescendingly, “is to jump into bed with the first short skirt that comes traipsing past. For Castiel’s sake, try to keep your dick out of Ruby’s pants until after this little . . . whatever it is, is finished. Understand?” Dean considered denying the accusation, but didn’t think it would help his case. He simply nodded mutely, his eyes meeting Gabe’s.

 

“Gabe, are you threatening my fiancé?” Cas asked, and both men glanced up at him. Gabe jumped up and threw his arms around Cas, not speaking. Cas stood there, stiff and unsure for several seconds, before he finally relented and wrapped his arms around the shorter man.

 

“Gabe, I understand that you may have missed me, but you really need to stop the hugging thing.” Cas muttered as he pulled away, and Gabe chuckled.

 

“Ah, yes. I forgot how uncomfortable you are with platonic human emotion.” Gabe teased. Cas rolled his eyes and held his hand out toward Dean, and Dean allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

 

“Don’t listen to him, babe. You know how great I am with emotion, both platonic and otherwise.” Cas murmured, pressing a brief kiss to Dean’s cheek.

 

“Of course. So, what’s on the schedule for the rest of the evening?” Dean asked, turning his attention back to Cas who looked over to Gabe and Anna. Gabe shrugged and glanced around, “I don’t think there are any until dinner at seven. So, uh, if you guys wanted some alone time, we could head up to your room, just the three of us and—”

 

Cas cut him off. “You know, I think I would appreciate some alone time with my fiancé, so my fiancé and I, not including you,” Cas pointed at Gabe, whose shoulders slumped dramatically, “are going to go up to our room until dinner. Can we just stay in my old room?”

 

“Uh, I think so. The old man never changed anything after you left. And I think I heard Naomi say that she had your stuff taken up there.” Gabe explained. Cas smiled gratefully and tugged on Dean’s hand, pulling him back toward the main foyer.

 

“You were—” Dean began, but Cas shook his head, silently communicating the need for silence. He led Dean up the main staircase toward his old room on the third floor. Dean could sense the tension building in his shoulders as they made their way past old family portraits and locked doors. Cas waited until the bedroom door was securely closed and locked behind them before releasing Dean’s hand with a heavy sigh. He rubbed a heavy hand over his eyes and slumped back against the wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He muttered over and over again, his shoulders shaking as he covered his eyes with both hands.

 

Dean stepped in, unsure of how to proceed. The change from the Castiel downstairs was night and day; this man was a wreck, and Dean chastised himself for ever thinking that this man could be anything other than what he was, a man just trying to survive. This was Cas, for Christ’s sake, the guy who argued the merits of teaching literature, who broke out into drunken karaoke, who told Dean that he’d left everything behind to be a better man. Dean reached out to pull Cas against his chest and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, rubbing small circles on his back as Cas began to sob against his front. Dean shushed him softly and murmured reassuring words about how well Cas had done, about how he was so brave, how they wouldn’t need to be here much longer. He continued to stroke Cas’s back until the sobs began to abate.

 

“Better?” Dean asked softly, and Cas nodded, his face still pressed into Dean’s shoulder. “How does a nap sound right now?” Cas nodded again, and Dean took him by the hand and led him over to the bed, pulling back the coverlet enough for Cas to crawl under it. He moved to sit on the couch by the bay window, but Cas’s calling his name stopped him. He turned back to find the other man staring at him silently.

 

“Will you lay here with me, just for a little bit?” Cas asked, his voice tiny and unsure. Dean knew that this was supposed to be fake, that it wouldn’t help to carry the façade behind closed doors, but he still nodded and climbed onto the bed, lying on top of the blanket as he pulled Cas’s back against his front and wrapped an arm around his waist. He drifted off to the sound of Cas’s deep breathing.

 

When he woke up, he was alone in the bed. It was darker outside, which meant he must have slept for a while. He glanced around and found that the door leading to the bathroom was shut, and he could hear the shower running. He stood and stretched, moving toward the bathroom, but halted when he heard Cas speaking. Was there someone in there with him? He listened, but no one spoke when Cas paused, so he must be on a phone call.

 

“What do you expect me to do?” He was saying. His voice sounded strained. “I can’t take that risk.” Another pause. “You know why! Listen, you’re just going to have to trust my judgment on this one, okay? I need to make it out of this . . . I don’t know. I just don’t want to be too fucked up when it’s all said and done. I have get ready for dinner; it’s in the big dining room, which means if you show up, you have to be dressed like you’re at some fucking presidential dinner. Of course. Bye.”

 

Dean heard Cas step under the shower stream, but he stood there outside the bathroom door for a couple seconds, thinking about what he’d heard. Trust his judgement? Take what risk? He was so busy thinking about the phone call that he almost missed the small groan that came from the shower. His head jerked up and he leaned forward, listening more intently. Was Cas jerking off?

Shit. He heard another quiet moan, and his own dick began to perk up. He willed it to go down as he took a step back. He was supposed to be working, not creeping on his asset.

 

He was sitting on the couch glancing through a book from the bookshelf when Cas emerged several minutes later with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

 

“You’re up!” Cas observed, smiling warmly. Dean nodded silently, struggling to keep his eyes on Castiel’s face instead of his firm torso. For a high school lit teacher, the man was built. Cas padded over to his suitcase, and Dean was about to avert his eyes, when he caught sight of the ink between his shoulder blades. It was a circle with a tree in the center, and around the circle were several runes.

 

“That’s your family symbol?” Dean asked, and Castiel stiffened. He didn’t turn as he responded, “Yes. All of us have it.”

 

“What does the tree represent?”

 

“It’s biblical; Father was always rather taken with the story about the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. It fascinated him, the idea that there could be so much of both wrapped up in one fruit. Knowledge unbound, but at a terrible cost.” He turned back to Dean, his arms wrapping around himself. “That’s how he ran things. There was great reward in his favor, but it came at a terrible cost.” Dean didn’t know how to respond, but Cas hadn’t expected an answer. Instead, he inclined his head toward the bathroom, “You may want to take a shower before dinner. Spending too much time around my family can leave you feeling . . .” He trailed off, but Dean chuckled and nodded. He grabbed his stuff from his overnight bag and headed into the bathroom. 

 

Castiel waited until the door had closed before he knelt down on the floor beside his bag. He’d hoped that the phone call with Jo would help him clear his mind about the whole thing.

 

“What do you expect me to do?” He’d asked.

“Cas, just tell him! I mean, I know that he’s technically on a job, but who knows? Maybe after.” She’d sounded so hopeful, but Cas had never been one to entertain impossible ideas. So he’d cut her off with, “I can’t take that risk.” She wasn’t there; she didn’t sense the way that Dean always seemed to be holding a part of himself back. He didn’t trust Cas; Cas could sense it. Whatever Ruby or Gabe or anyone else had said while Cas had been talking to Anna in the garden, it had planted doubts in the agent’s mind. Well, the doubts had already been there before; it just gave those doubts more solid grounding.

 

Cas shook his head to clear it. He’d known from the beginning that there would never be anything with Dean. Straight as an arrow, in love with Lisa, just a nice guy Dean Winchester. The problems came when Dean did stupid shit like hold him while he was crying or stay with him while he was sleeping. He almost wished that Dean had said no when he asked him to lie down earlier; it would have helped establish those boundaries in Cas’s mind that Cas needed to hang onto if he wasn’t going to fall off the deep end here.

 

Cas was in the closet, studying his reflection in the full-length mirror there as he fixed his tie when Dean stepped out of the shower, already in black slacks and a grey dress shirt.

 

“Cas?” He called.

 

“In the closet.” Cas called over his shoulder.

 

“No, I don’t think that term really applies to you at this point.” Dean teased as he walked up behind Cas. Cas blushed and rolled his eyes.

 

“What do you want, Dean?” He grumbled as he turned to face the taller man.

 

“Which one?” Dean asked, holding up two different ties. Cas studied them both before pointing at the skinny black one. “Great!” Dean said, tossing the other one on the dresser. “Um, could you…?” He held out the tie to Cas. Cas just stared up at him, an eyebrow quirked, as a blush began to rise along Dean’s cheeks.

 

“Dean, do you need help tying your ties?” Cas teased as he took the tie from Dean. Dean’s blush intensified. “How the hell are you a federal agent if you don’t know how to tie a tie? I thought that was part of the entrance exam.”

 

“Shut up. I never actually have to wear one of these things unless I’m interviewing someone. And I usually just get Charlie to tie it then.” Dean admitted, and Cas shook his head. His quickly tied the knot then handed it back to Dean. Dean slipped it over his head and Cas reached up to pull it tight, adjusting the knot. The soft smile played around his mouth still, and Dean found that he couldn’t quite look away. He should just ask Cas about the phone call; he knew that the answer would immediately allay any doubts that still lingered. But then that would be admitting that he had stood at the bathroom door and listened to not only the phone call, but also the activities that followed.

 

“You ready for tonight?” Dean asked instead, and he didn’t miss the way Cas’s eyes tightened at the corners.

 

“Yes, and no. I mean, on the one hand, I feel like it’s going to be a regular old family dinner, maybe a couple shouting matches and fistfights, but nothing too bad. And on the other hand, I feel like the shit’s about to hit the fan. I mean, could you feel the tension in that room earlier? And as flattering as it would be, I doubt that we had very much to do with that.”

 

“Ruby said that this whole weekend is about people picking sides, either Michael or Lucifer.” Dean mused. “She asked if you were going to try to reclaim your crown. I take it that there are several people who are still undecided about the whole thing.”

 

“I can understand that.” Cas murmured, his eyes zoning out as he stared over Dean’s shoulder. “I mean, picking between Michael and Lucifer is picking the lesser of two evils. If people think that I’m in the running, so to speak, they might hold off on choosing either.” He let out another heavy sigh. “But that just prolongs the fighting that’s already going on in the streets. The Family will choose their new leader, soon, and we need to make sure that they choose the right one.” Cas turned his eyes back to Dean, “Did you speak to either Lucy or Michael?”

 

“No. I didn’t really get the chance beyond when we met them.” Dean said, and Cas nodded. He chuckled and shook his head, “Lucy.”

 

“I know, right? Gabe started calling him that when they were kids, and it just stuck.” Cas grinned unrepentantly.

 

“Of course he did. Gabe is a little shit, I hope you know that.” Dean points out, but Cas rolls his eyes.

 

“Dean, he’s my older brother. Of course I fucking know that.” Cas smirked.

 

“What about him? Why doesn’t he aim for the title?” Dean asked, suddenly curious. He hadn’t thought about it before, but Gabe was the perfect solution. He wasn’t tyrannical or overpowering, like the other brothers, and he seemed genuinely concerned for his family. He would do things right.

 

“Gabe doesn’t do responsibility. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t run before me.” Cas admitted. He glanced over at the clock on top of the dresser; it was 6:55. He started pushing Dean out toward the main bedroom. “Hurry up and get your shoes on; we have to be downstairs soon.”

 

Dinner was a stilted affair. As Dean glanced around the table, he could practically see the alliance lines drawn down the center of the table. The seat at the head of the table was empty, in remembrance of the father. Lucifer sat in the seat to the left, and his followers, all looking a little rougher around the edges, despite still displaying that innate quality that came with being raised in money, were seated down that side of the table. Michael sat to the right of the empty chair along with his people, all neatly put together with little bows on top. Anna sat to his right, Cas sat across from her next to Lucifer, and Dean sat next to Cas. Gabriel had immediately claimed the seat next to Dean so they could “really get to know each other, man to man!” Despite spending most of the dinner speaking to Gabriel, Dean could sense Cas’s discomfort, and reached down to grip his knee under the tablecloth. Cas smiled over at him gratefully. Anna saw the small smile and winked at Dean while Ruby, who was sitting next to Anna, rolled her eyes and muttered about grossly cute gay couples.

 

“Sorry, what was that, Ruby?” Cas asked, a smug expression on his face. Ruby opened her mouth to respond when Anna cut her off, “Now, let’s not fight, children!”

 

“Yes, mother.” Ruby responded, sarcasm dripping in her voice.

 

“Take care how you speak to my wife, Ruby.” Michael said from his spot, a definite warning note in his tone. Ruby said nothing to him, but her face showed her displeasure at being corrected. Cas understood. Michael had always held them all under an iron thumb, demanding perfection. He met Ruby’s eyes over the table, and understanding seemed to pass between them. No matter what their petty quarrels were in their younger years, they were now treading dangerous water. They needed all the help they could get. Once everyone was done eating, dessert was served, but the environment seemed more relaxed.

 

“Castiel,” Michael spoke, pulling Castiel’s eyes toward him. Castiel sat up straighter, ever the faithful brother. “How long are you planning on staying?”

 

“I’m not.” Cas responded.

 

“What do you mean?” Lucifer asked, turning to face Castiel.

 

“I told you earlier; I’m only here to pay my respects. I’m leaving after the funeral.” Castiel reminded them.

 

“Oh, no! You have to stay longer, Cas! We’ve barely had time to catch up.” Anna voiced her disagreement, but quieted at the warning glance from Michael.

 

“She’s right; you should stay, spend some time with your family.” Lucifer said, shooting Michael a glare. And then Cas understood what this was about; neither of them thought that Castiel was here to claim the top job. They knew him well enough to know that it didn’t interest him. But both of them understood what having Castiel’s support would mean for their cause. Receiving a confirmation from the favored son could sway any people who were undecided. Fuck. They were going to make him choose, and then whomever he didn’t choose would be out for blood. He desperately wanted to conference with Anna and Gabriel like he would have in the old days, but he couldn’t. They were too deeply entrenched in this mess to be of any real help.

 

“I really wish we could stay,” Cas hedged, “but Dean has to get back for work.” He felt Dean’s arm slide across the back of the chair, around his shoulders, and he leaned back into the touch.

 

“And work is where?” Michael asked, his eyes pinning Dean to his chair. Dean sat up straighter and smiled charmingly.

 

“Sandover Investments. Our main office is in New York City, but Cas and I travel around quite a bit for my work.” 

 

“An investment banker who travels?” Lucifer confirmed, leaning around Cas to look at Dean.

 

“Yes, sir. We tend take a more direct approach when dealing with clients. I was actually meeting with a client who was on vacation in Tahiti when I met Cas.” He smiled serenely at the dark-haired man. Cas smiled back, his eyes warm. Dean was so good at this.

 

“How fortunate for you both.” Lucifer murmured almost to himself before turning back to his dessert.

 

Michael looked like he was about to speak again, when the door to the dining room opened and their head of security strode in. He looked between the two brothers for a moment, undecided in who to speak to, before finally leaning down and whispering in Michael’s ear. Michael’s eyes tightened, and he turned to whisper back into the guard’s ear when the doors burst open and four uniformed police officers walked in, along with a man in a suit, obviously a detective.

 

“Sorry to interrupt your little family gathering. Just stopping by to pay my condolences.” The detective called, walking straight up to the head of the table and stopping behind the empty chair. His eyes skipped around the room, studying the different faces around the table. Dean saw him hesitate briefly when his eyes landed on Cas, though. He glanced at Cas and found the other man purposefully avoiding the detective’s eyes. “I always hate disrupting meals, but it seems that someone at this table is not quite as sorry as they’d all like for you to believe.” He looked over at Lucifer, his eyes hard. “You see, we recently received a report that someone made three attempts on your father’s life, before he died.” A small murmur rose up around the table at his words. Cas glanced over at Dean, his eyes wide. What the hell?

 

“And then, just moments ago, our coroner found that Charles Shurley did not die of a heart attack like we’d believed. No, he was poisoned.”

 

“Why didn’t this show up earlier?” Michael asked, his tone angry.

 

“Because it was a very rare toxin, not one of the ones that we usually look for. But we received an anonymous tip with the name of a certain kind of toxin that’s only produced in certain parts of South America. Lucifer, let me ask you,” He leaned on the back of the chair. “weren’t you just in South America two weeks ago?”

 

“I don’t think I’d like to have this discussion without my lawyer present.” Lucifer stated.

 

“Oh, I understand.” The detective said, but then glanced down at the other end of the table, “Well, what a fortunate coincidence, isn’t that him right down there?”

 

“So it is. Why don’t we take this somewhere a little more private?” Lucifer suggested, standing. Michael stood with him, his face blank. But Castiel could see it in his eyes, the triumph. Even if Lucifer wasn’t arrested for this, the seed of doubt had been planted. There would be some of his followers who switched their allegiance over to Michael based on that doubt alone. If he were arrested, well, he would probably lose all of his followers. Not that it really mattered; the Family wasn’t an organization that could be run from inside of a prison. It wasn’t a ramshackle group that could go on occasional updates and decrees. It needed a firm and present hand.

 

The detective held out a folded paper to Lucifer. “It’s a warrant to search your belongings. I have men searching your room and your car now.”

 

Lucifer nodded and was about to follow the detective out of the room, motioning for his lawyer to join them, when another uniformed man walked in and leaned in to speak with the detective. The detective turned back to Lucifer, a triumphant smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Well, it looks like we’re going to have that private meeting down at the precinct. We just found a bottle of the stuff in the lockbox of your car.”

 

Madness let loose as several people stood and began protesting, claiming that he’d been framed. People on both Michael and Lucifer’s side jumped up, shouting accusations across the table at each other. Gabriel just sighed wearily and reached for the flask in his jacket pocket, slumping back against his chair. Lucifer said nothing as the uniformed officers led him out, his lawyer following behind. The detective stayed behind a moment longer, his eyes landing on Castiel again.

 

“Sorry if I’m not dressed up enough for your big dining room.” He said, and then strode out. Dean’s eyes widened as he recalled the phone conversation he’d overheard earlier.

 

“It’s in the big dining room, which means if you show up, you have to be dressed like you’re at some fucking presidential dinner.”

 

His mind buzzed with unanswered questions. Had Cas been the one to call the detective? How would he have even known about the poisoning? Why hadn’t he told Dean? What could he possibly have to gain by turning the information over to the cops instead of the FBI? Dean stared at Cas, who looked . . . hurt? Shocked? Dean looked across the table to Anna, who looked like she was about to cry, and Ruby, who was staring back at him intently. What the hell was going on?


	7. Bouncers and Old Friends and Exes! Oh my!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas goes looking for answers with an old friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Hope all is going well with you. Couple small notes about this chapter.
> 
> Castiel's former relationship with one of his much older boyfriends is discussed in this chapter, so that kind of falls under the underage warning. 
> 
> Well, I guess I only actually had one note. So... Enjoy!!

“Excuse me.” Cas muttered, abruptly standing up and rushing from the room. Dean glanced at the others for a moment before excusing himself and hurrying after Cas. He ran out into the main foyer, only to find it empty. Had Cas gone up to the room? He headed toward the stairs, but stopped short at Ruby’s voice behind him. “He won’t be up there.”

 

Dean turned back to her. “Oh, and you know this how?”

 

“Cassie was never very good at . . . confrontation. I’m sure you’ve picked up on that by now.” She arched an eyebrow at Dean, and he nodded. He honestly had no idea how Cas really dealt with confrontation, but he couldn’t tell her that. “Anyways, he probably went out to blow off some steam.”

 

“Blow off some steam how?” Dean asked before he could stop himself. She just smirked and shrugged before reaching forward and taking him by the elbow, “Let’s go back to the dining room. They’re about to start throwing chairs, and I don’t want to miss the good shit.”

 

Dean allowed himself to be led, but stopped short. Ruby probably knew a lot more than she let on, which meant she could be helpful. Cas had been gone for years; there were things he was bound not to know. But Ruby had been here this entire time . . . He glanced over at her and plastered a smile on.

 

“So, is it normal for long-dead family members to show up and people to get arrested around here?”

 

“Yes, but not usually on the same day. Today we just got a two-for-one special.” She replied with a smirk. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if the two events were more closely related than he’d thought.

 

Cas leaned deep into the turn as he sped the borrowed Augusta around the corner at Division and LaSalle, his mind intent on his destination. What the hell was happening to his family? He knew that they were a bunch of power-hungry dicks, but he never thought that they’d actually betray one of their own like that. And he knew without a doubt that Lucifer had been set up, betrayed, because he would never kill the Father. But who would set up Lucifer like that? Surely not Michael. Despite what Castiel had seen in his eyes when Lucifer had been arrested, Castiel doubted that Michael was behind this. Yes, Lucifer and Michael were . . . at odds, but they had a code. It was the code that the entire Family lived by, a rule ordained by the Father himself: they could bite and snarl at each other all they wanted behind closed doors, but in the public eye, a unified front was absolutely necessary. The rule had been so ingrained in all of them; he couldn’t accept that someone had broken it. Not without proof. He needed answers, and he wouldn’t find them in that twisted up spider’s web. But he did know one person who would have answers, and even though the guy would probably kill him, Cas needed to see him.

 

It was only a few minutes’ drive until he was pulling into the parking lot behind Vision night club, well, technically, clubs. There were multiple clubs housed in the same building; some dumbass had coined the term multi-venue entertainment complex for it. But Castiel wasn’t interested in any of the main clubs tonight. He parked the bike and walked up to the service entrance, slipping inside. He stopped short at the business logo on the door; when had they changed the name to Castle?

 

“Well, that’s just stupid.” He muttered to himself as he walked through the back storage area. He nodded at a passing busboy like he was supposed to be there. He’d found from an early age that if he acted like he knew what he was doing, no one bothered questioning him. He walked toward the kitchen, but instead of going through the swinging double doors, he turned right just before and descended the narrow, steep staircase. There was a locked door at the bottom of the staircase, and Castiel rapped on it twice. A small window in the door, barely large enough for someone to look out through, slid open. Castiel could only see the bouncer’s eyes, but he still glared at him as he demanded, “I need to speak to him.”

 

“Him who?” The bouncer asked, and Cas rolled his eyes.

 

“The one with my dick shoved up his ass.”

 

The bouncer stood there for a second, staring at Cas, before he let out a guffaw of laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The window slid shut, and Cas heard the bolt on the door being unlatched. When the door swung inward, the big bouncer opened his arms wide and pulled Cas into a tight grip, “You always were a little shit.” Cas returned the hug briefly before pulling back.

 

“Where is he, Inaias?”

 

“In the burgundy room.” The burly man jerked his head back toward the long hallway that stretched out behind him.

 

“Thanks.” Cas called over his shoulder as he headed back. He passed most of the doors, his nose crinkling in distaste at the scent of drugs and sex that always permeated the air down here. He thought of the clubs upstairs and shook his head; how many of those upstanding citizens knew about the den of iniquity that lurked just below their feet? Not too many, or else they’d all be down here instead.

 

He stopped at the second to last door and thought about knocking, but decided against it. It was always better to have the element of surprise in situations like this. He kicked the door open, and the man in the oversized bed immediately sat up, tossing the naked woman who’d been straddling him off to the floor as his hands came up in front of him in an appeasing manner.

 

“I swear, I didn’t know she was marr—” He trailed off as he finally realized who stood there. He stared at Castiel for a solid thirty seconds before he was finally able to speak again. “Cas?”

 

“Hello, Balthazar.” Cas greeted him, a small smirk playing at his mouth.

 

“Oh my god. You’re . . . alive?” Balth asked, crawling from the bed to walk toward Cas, his eyes wide, as though he were unable to grasp what he was seeing.

 

“Yes.” Cas said, and opened his mouth to give his cover story, but never had the chance. Because right then, Balth decked him.

 

“How dare you be alive? I mourned for you!” Balth yelled as Cas rubbed at his jaw, wincing. “I wasted my 1926 Macallan in your farewell toast! I drank my $75,000 scotch in your honor, and you aren’t even fucking dead?”

 

“I understand, and I’m sorry. But, uh, could you please put on some underwear?” Cas asked, and Balthazar glanced down at himself, realizing that he was standing buck naked and erect.

 

“No.” He finally replied. “Because I don’t know where they are.”

 

“I found them.” The naked woman called, holding up a pair of black silk briefs.

 

“Ah, thank you, love.” Balth said as he walked over to pluck them from her. He slid them on then turned back around to face Castiel, his expression much smoother. “Now, tell me, Cassie. What can Balthazar do for you?” Cas shot a glance at the naked woman, who still sat on the floor with a sheet wrapped around her, and Balthazar sighed. “Right, private time. Marie, love, stay here; daddy’s going to talk business.”

 

“Daddy?” Cas asked, his amusement evident, as they left the room and walked back down the hall.

 

“What? Be it far from me to judge others for their peculiarities.” Balth said, then smirked over at Cas. “Be it even farther from you, Castiel. I remember the old days when you were quite the nasty little one. Tell me, do you still make them spank you in your pretty pink panties?”

 

“My sex life with my fiancé is my business, just like your sex life with other men’s wives is yours.” Cas chided, feeling a smug rush as Balthazar’s eyebrows shot up. They walked past Inaias again, and if he was at all surprised by Balthazar’s wandering around in underwear, he didn’t show it. The men didn’t go back out to the staircase, but rather headed into the first doorway in the long hall. Balthazar’s office looked completely different than it had before, which Cas had expected. Balth updated his personal décor every six to seven months, at least. 

 

“Fiancé, huh? I never thought that you would settle down. Well, not until Father Dearest had found an acceptable mate, that is. Or did he? Wait, let me guess, in his last will and testament, he bequeathed to you a new husband.”

 

Castiel chuckled. “No, I met Dean on my own in Tahiti last year.”

 

“Dean?” Balthazar said the name like it was something distasteful. “What a bloody awful name.”

 

“I rather like it, actually. And he’s not what I’m here to talk about.” Castiel brought their conversation back to topic as he settled down into one of the chairs in front of Balthazar’s desk. Balthazar moved to the sidebar to pour himself a cup of scotch, holding it up toward Castiel in a silent offer. Castiel shook his head, and Balthazar returned to take the other empty seat in front of his desk.

 

“What have you heard about the Family?” Cas asked, getting straight to the point.

 

“Nothing much; just that the Father passed of a heart attack on Wednesday evening. Your darling brothers are circling the flock, picking off the weak ones, claiming the strong ones. This weekend is pretty much the general election; whoever has the most support at the end of the funeral, has the crown. ”

 

“That can’t be all you’ve heard, though.”

 

“Oh, are you talking about Lucifer’s arrest? Because I had heard something about that, but that was right before Marie and I started our little tête-à-tête, and I didn’t particularly feel the inclination to look into it at the moment.”

 

“So you know nothing about that? At all?” Cas clarified, and Balthazar shook his head.

 

“No, only that it was an anonymous tip-off. Call made from a burner cell that was bouncing towers to mask its location.”

 

“Fuck. Do they know anything? Guy or girl? Young? Old? Smoker?”

 

“Nope. The person was using a voice scrambler. Which the whole thing is a little Hardy Boys, if you ask me. I mean, honestly? A voice scrambler? Who the fuck even produces those things anymore, much less uses them?” Balthazar disparaged, and Cas chuckled.

 

“I should get back. I left in the middle of dessert. Well, I think the meal was technically over, considering the whole arrest thing. Oh, guess who made the arrest?” He asked as he stood.

 

“Detective O’Coolihan.” Balthazar responded, using their pet name for the uptight detective. “I heard. That must have been unpleasant; not only does your older brother get arrested, but your ex-boyfriend is the one making the arrest.”

 

“Yes. And he had the audacity to say, to me, as the cops were leading Lucifer out, ‘Sorry if I’m not dressed up enough for your big dining room.’ To me. In front of my entire fucking family and fiancé.” Cas sighed heavily and shook his head. “He always was a douche.”

 

“I agree. Why the hell did you ever date him, Castiel? I honestly had come to expect more from you.”

 

“If I remember right, you were the one who set us up in the first place. You said I needed to date someone in the same age bracket at least once.” Cas shot back, and Balthazar’s face froze up for an instant before he nodded. “Ah, yes. Sorry about that.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. All water under the bridge.” Castiel assured him as he began to head for the door.

 

“Yes, I suppose it is now that you have Dean.”

 

“Please, stop saying his name like it’s some sort of venereal disease.” Castiel muttered as he opened the door.

 

“At least think about broaching the subject of a name change.” Balthazar suggested. Castiel turned back to face him, his hand still on the doorknob.

 

“Oh, speaking of name changes. The Castle, really?” Castiel asked, disapproval coloring his tone, and Balthazar sighed heavily.

 

“Yes, I know. It was Crowley’s call; and since he owns controlling interest . . .”

 

“He has the right to change the name. I understand. Speaking of, how is my favorite British ex?”

 

“I’m fantastic, thank you for asking.” Castiel heard from behind him, and he groaned before turning around to face the shorter, older, British man. “Crowley.”

 

“Cassie. I’d heard you were back in town.” Crowley said as he moved into the office, shutting the door behind him and cutting off Castiel’s escape. He gestured toward the empty chair, and Cas moved back to sit down again.

 

“Yes, I arrived earlier this afternoon. How have you been?” Castiel asked as he settled in.

 

“Excellent. I have controlling interest in the best multi-venue entertainment complex in the city,” Castiel rolled his eyes at the stupid term, “along with a few other small companies. I own three different properties, four luxury vehicles, a yacht, and a private jet. Overall, I guess you could say that I’ve never been better.”

 

“That’s quite the impressive collection. Tell me, where do you keep all your kept boys now? The penthouse on State? The suite at the Drake?” Castiel asked, his voice tight with anger.

 

“Actually, I put them up at Trump’s place now. Much nicer views.” Crowley explained condescendingly, and Castiel fought the urge to punch him, an urge which only grew as he continued speaking. “But, if you really wanted, I could get our old suite. I understand you might be sentimentally attached, and I’m more than willing to accommodate.”

 

“Sorry, I’m spoken for.” Castiel said flatly, holding up his left hand with the plain gold band.

 

“Ah, yes. I heard you brought the most delightful little fiancé with you. Dean Smith. He seems like quite the up-and-comer.” Crowley’s voice held a challenge, but Castiel only smirked.

 

“Crowley, as much as I enjoy the entertainment value of any awkward situation, is there any particular reason you’re here?” Balthazar interrupted, and Crowley shook his head.

 

“No, just came to check up on things.” Cas cursed internally; the busboy in the back storage room must have recognized him. The only other people who had seen him were Inaias and Marie, and neither of them had had enough time to tip off the man.

 

“Ah, well, you know your way around.” Balthazar motioned toward the door, and Crowley smirked before he nodded at Cas and head back for the door. As soon as the door shut behind him, Castiel let out a shudder.

 

“Cassie, get the hell out of here before you run into any more of your exes. I have a matter that needs to be dealt with as soon as possible.” Balth said, and Castiel smirked as he thought of the woman waiting in the burgundy room.

 

“Of course. I’ll see you at the funeral?”

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m always up for free entertainment in the form of familial drama.” Balth mused, and Cas chuckled as he walked to the door and opened it again.

 

“Hey, maybe you should bring your 1926 Macallan for the toast. Oh, wait . . .” Castiel shut the door on Balthazar’s yelling.


	8. This Is Your Previously Scheduled Meltdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meltdown 2.0, fluffy pillow talk, the color of boom, and the emerging of a new leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So several notes about this chapter! 
> 
> First, Cas does have another meltdown; this one's a little more intense than the last one.
> 
> Second, there is a brief mention of past drug use/abuse. 
> 
> Third, there is mention of sex bruises from when Cas was a teen, which would fall under the underage warning.
> 
> Fourth, there is a big boom followed by death, including the death of a child. 
> 
> I would like to say that it may seem like Cas is crying a lot and is, therefore, a crybaby. He's not. He's just going through a lot of stuff right now, so bear with him (and me)!
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean was pacing up and down the length of the entry hall when Cas arrived back home. His hair looked mussed, like he’d been running his fingers through it. His suit coat had been abandoned, leaving him in just his grey dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his tie, which was only knotted loosely, like he’d tugged at it repeatedly. As soon as he caught sight of Cas, he hurried forward, grabbing his forearm in a tight grip.

 

“Where the hell have you been?” He asked, dragging Cas into a small alcove. Cas tried to ignore the fact that in the small space, they barely had room to stand chest to chest. Cas actually had to tilt his head up to look at Dean’s eyes.

 

“I had to go see someone.” Cas explained, his eyebrows furrowing together.

 

“Yeah, Ruby told me, blow off some steam.” Dean growled, and Cas’s eyes widened at the accusation concealed in the words. Was Dean jealous?

 

“Ruby doesn’t know shit about what I do or who I do it with, okay?” Cas retorted, upset that Dean was listening to anything Ruby had to say.

 

“Yeah, well, apparently, nobody does. Including me. Which cannot happen if this is going to work, Cas.” He indicated between the two of them, and Cas felt himself tense up. Of course Dean wasn’t jealous; he was only concerned about the job. Cas tried to hide the disappointment that flooded through him at that, opting for the angry approach instead.

 

“Well, sorry! I forgot that I had to check with you every single time I went anywhere or did anything.” Castiel hissed.

 

“Ooh, do I sense trouble in paradise?” Gabriel’s voice cut into their discussion, and Cas tried to push Dean a step back, but there wasn’t any room. So instead, when Gabe rounded the corner, Cas had his hands on Dean’s chest, and Dean had his on Cas’s hips. When had those gotten there? Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. “Apparently not. So, you all are into anger sex. Got it.”

 

“We are not . . .” Cas started to huff out, but decided it wouldn’t be worth it.

 

“Hey, no judgement. But things did sound a little tense there.” Gabe held out his hands in an appeasing manner, and Cas and Dean wouldn’t make eye contact. “Come on, you two. Kiss and make up, for Gabey’s peace of mind.” Gabe prodded. Cas started to protest, but Dean just rolled his eyes and bent down to press a firm kiss against Cas’s mouth. As soon as their lips touched, Cas’s eyes slid shut, and he almost groaned at the sensations that flooded his body, particularly in his crotch area. But no sooner had the kiss started then it was over. Dean pulled back and shot Gabriel a ‘satisfied?’ look before grabbing Cas by the hand and dragging him toward their room.

 

“Enjoy the angry makeup sex!” Gabe called after them, but neither dignified him with a response. As soon as they were behind their closed door, Dean spun them around and pinned Cas’s back against the door with a hand against his chest, resting his other hand on the door above Cas’s head, trapping him in.

 

“Where the hell were you tonight? Because, honestly, you smell like sex and drugs right now.” Dean asked, his eyebrows raised. Cas sighed and shook his head, “No, I didn’t have sex, and I don’t even do drugs. Honestly, Dean, I wasn’t even gone long enough for either of those.” At that, Dean seemed to zone out for a second, his eyes slipping down to Cas’s mouth, but he quickly pulled himself back.

 

“So then where were you?”

 

“I went to see an old friend about Lucifer’s arrest.”

 

“Why?” Dean asked, slightly surprised that Cas had been the one to bring it up. He’d thought that he was going to have to drag the information out of him.

 

“Because it doesn’t feel right, Dean. This entire weekend. And not just because of Father’s death. Something is . . . off. Someone is pulling the strings, and we’re all dancing to their tune.” Cas explained, running a hand over his face. “So when Lucifer got arrested earlier, I had to find out who was behind it. Because in the Family I grew up in, no one would have ever done that. Family feud and power play be damned, we don’t sell each other out. That’s why we’re called the Family.”

 

“Wait, you mean you . . .” Dean began to ask, his confusion clear, but he trailed off. Cas stared at him, incredulously.

 

“Dean, did you think I was responsible?”

 

Dean glanced away and didn’t respond. Cas sighed.

 

“How the hell is it that you’ll trust a conniving bitch like Ruby, whom you just met, who’s hated me since we were teenagers, by the way, but you won’t trust me?”

 

“Look, what the hell was I supposed to think, Cas? After that phone call earlier, and the comment the detective made right before he left, it all just made sense!”

 

“You heard my phone call?” Cas asked, suddenly stiffening up under Dean’s arm. Dean drew up short as he realized what he’d admitted.

 

“Yeah,” he finally admitted, his voice weary. “I was going to ask you about it, but I . . .” He trailed off.

 

“You didn’t trust me.” Cas supplied, and Dean had no response. Cas’s cheeks flooded with heat, and he shoved Dean away. He stormed toward the bathroom, grabbing his overnight bag as he went.

 

“Cas.” Dean called after him, but Cas didn’t respond. He slammed the bathroom door behind him and locked it. Dean had heard the call, everything Cas had told Jo. He knew. No wonder he’d acted so weird after Cas had come out of the shower; he’d probably wanted to make sure that he didn’t hurt Cas’s little emotions too much. Cas turned the tub faucet on high but didn’t put in the stopper so that the water could run without filling the tub. He stripped naked and then moved to stand in front of the bathroom vanity, his hands gripping the edge of the counter tightly. He stared at his reflection, bright blue eyes mocking him. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t you dare fucking cry, he silently commanded himself. But it didn’t work. The tears began to flow, and his face crumpled as he silently wept.

 

He felt worse than when he was a teenager, when he would stand in front of this mirror and inspect each new bruise, cut, and bite mark his latest boyfriend had given him. He’d simultaneously hated and loved those marks, just like the man whom he’d received them for. He’d pop a pill for the numbness he never quite managed to escape, and then he’d trace each bruise with his finger, dragging up the pain again and again and again, just for the chance to feel something, anything. Now, the marks weren’t visible, but they were still there. Dean was cutting at him, slowly, with every word. He’d never trust Cas, and why should he? Cas wouldn’t trust himself, if he were in Dean’s spot. Why should he expect what he’d never give? And Dean, just like all the others, would leave his marks, but this time they’d be permanent.

 

Dean sat on the couch, again, listening to the bath water run. But he knew that Cas wasn’t actually in the tub; there wasn’t any splashing. How the hell did he always manage to fuck shit up so much? He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, dropping his head into his hands. Dean got up and paced around the room. He sat back down. He stood back up. He walked to the bathroom door, leaning against it. He could hear when Cas began to silently sob and then when he began to dry heave, but he couldn’t do anything. He tried knocking on the door, tried calling out to Cas, but there was no response. Not even a “get the fuck out of here.” He slid down the door and leaned back against it. He sat there for an hour and a half, waiting, listening, regretting. Why hadn’t he just asked Cas about the damn phone call? He sighed, already knowing the answer. He hadn’t asked because he was a damn coward.

 

Dean Winchester, FBI agent, all-around tough guy with a heart of gold, was afraid of a shorter, skinny lit teacher. Not really afraid of him, but of what he represented. Because Dean could tell, from the first conversation they’d had at Bobby and Ellen’s, that Cas was different. He was smart, funny, gorgeous, didn’t take shit from anybody, and he was exactly what Dean wanted. And then they’d come here, to that unassuming lit teacher’s house, and Dean had seen a whole different side of Cas. And that whole new side didn’t detract from the man at all; no, it only made him better. Because Dean could see that Cas genuinely cared about his family, despite the fact that they were all criminals. He would do anything to protect them; hell, he’d put himself in danger to make sure that they were all right in the end. And that, more than anything else, spoke volumes to Dean. And Dean would rather believe that there was something wrong with this man, even if he had to make shit up in his overactive imagination, than actually admit that Cas was good for him.

 

When the door finally opened, Dean almost fell back, but he caught himself and twisted around to look up at Cas, whose eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.

 

“Cas . . .” He tried again, but Cas shook his head. “Not right now, Dean. Please.”

 

And then he shuffled past Dean and climbed into the bed, curling up into a tight ball under the blanket. Dean continued to sit there on the floor, unsure of where to go or how to proceed. Was he supposed to sleep on the couch? It wasn’t exactly long enough for him. That only left the bed, but Cas might not want that.

 

As if he could hear his internal struggle, Cas spoke up softly, “Dean, come to bed.” 

 

“Yeah, okay.” Dean agreed, standing and stretching the kinks out of his back and neck before padding over to the bed and sliding in next to Cas.

 

Dean tried to stay awake in case Cas needed him, but despite the nap earlier in the day, he was worn out. He drifted off, again listening to Cas’s steady breathing. He startled awake a couple of hours later, and he listened for a couple of seconds to try to determine what had awoken him. And then he heard the soft hiccup and unsteady intake of breath from beside him. 

 

“Cas?” He whispered, leaning up on an elbow to peer over at Cas, who was still curled up on his side, facing away from Dean. He listened as Cas tried to pull his breathing under control before speaking.

 

“Sorry I woke you up.”

 

“No, don’t be. Um, is there anything I can get you? Glass of water? Tylenol?”

 

Cas drew another shaky breath before responding, “No. It’s just been a very long day. But thank you.” He didn’t say anything else, so Dean assumed the conversation was ended. He lay back down and folded his hands over his chest, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“He was my ex-boyfriend.” Cas’s whisper was so soft that Dean was sure that he’d imagined it at first.

 

“Who?” He asked.

 

“The detective who came to arrest Lucifer. He was my ex-boyfriend.” Cas explained, finally rolling over so that he was facing Dean. Dean also turned on his side so that they were facing each other. “His comment about dressing up enough, that was for me. When we dated, I made him dress up every time he came over for Sunday dinner.”

 

“What a dick.” Dean observed, and Cas snorted a laugh. Dean took a deep breath and pressed on; they needed to get the air clear before they saw the others the next morning. “So, the dress up comment had nothing to do with your phone call earlier?” Cas tensed, and Dean almost expected him to turn away again.

 

“No. Um, about the call . . .” Cas began, but Dean spoke before he could explain.

 

“Listen, it was wrong of me to not trust you about that. I just heard you talking about taking a risk and trusting your judgment, and my agent brain automatically jumped to the worst possible conclusion.”

 

“So, you didn’t hear the whole call?” Cas asked, his tone hopeful, and Dean shook his head. Cas breathed a soft sigh of relief. So Dean still didn’t know. He wasn’t pitying Cas for his hopeless crush or, worse, mocking him for it.

 

“Who were you talking to, if not the detective?” Dean finally asked, and Cas smiled.

 

“Jo. We were catching up on some personal stuff.”

 

“Sounds like some pretty intense personal stuff.” Dean observed.

 

“Dean, in the approximately twelve hours since we’ve been here, it’s been discovered that my father was actually murdered and my brother has been arrested for that murder. Intense personal stuff is practically my identifier right now.” Cas teased. Dean smiled and found himself scooting in closer to the center of the bed, to Cas.

 

“Yeah, I can understand that. So, this friend you went to go see?” Dean prompted.

 

“It really was about Lucy’s arrest. I went to see my friend Balthazar. He runs a few nightclubs throughout the city, three of them are all located in the same complex about ten minutes away from here, that’s where I went. I asked him what he’d heard about the tip, and he said it was anonymous; called in by a burner cell that skipped signal towers to hide its location. And the person who called used a voice scrambler. So they have practically nothing on the person who called in the tip.”

 

“Well, that’s a bust.” Dean muttered, and Cas nodded his agreement.

 

“Oh, and I ran into another ex-boyfriend of mine there. Apparently, they’re all on watch for me in case I ever show my face in this town again.” Cas muttered angrily, and Dean’s eyebrows furrowed.

 

“Who is this guy?”

 

“His name is Crowley. He was an old friend of father’s. We dated for about three months when I was sixteen.”

 

“How the hell was this allowed? It’s illegal.” Dean asked, and Cas shrugged.

 

“Father didn’t care; Crowley’s a powerful businessman. He owned a lot of real estate and had small shares in several businesses. Apparently, now he’s the major share-holder of several large and small businesses, and has done even better for himself since I’ve been gone. You’d better believe that if father were still alive, and I came home, I’d be married off to Crowley in a heartbeat. Solidify the bonds between their two empires and all that.”

 

“Well, I don’t mean to sound like a heartless ass, but I’m glad your father isn’t here to make that happen.” Dean admitted softly, causing Cas to blush and murmur, “Me, too.”

 

Dean realized that he must have scooted forward again, or Cas must have, because they were very close. He would barely need to move to bring his mouth to the other man’s, if he felt so inclined. His eyes dropped to that mouth now, tracing its outline in the darkness.

 

“Dean, about the kiss earlier—” Cas began, but then Dean was surging forward to press his mouth against Cas’s again. Cas gasped, his eyes shooting wide open, but it didn’t long for him to respond, sliding one hand into Dean’s hair, the other to cup his neck, as Dean reached down to grasp at his hips again. His hands fit so comfortably there, perfectly matched. Dean scooted forward again, raising himself up so that he could settle over Cas and deepen the kiss. Just as his weight settled, though, the entire building shook, and a bright glow erupted outside. Dean and Cas broke apart, panting for air as they struggled to climb out of bed. They ran over to the window and looked down at the grounds below. Where the guest house used to be was a giant inferno, flames leaping up into the dark night sky.

 

“Anna!” Cas gasped, turning around to run to the bedroom door.

 

“What?” Dean asked, following close behind him.

 

“Anna and Michael and the baby are staying in the guest house, Dean!” Cas yelled, rushing down the stairs. Others were emerging from their rooms, disoriented and groggy.

 

By the time Cas and Dean, followed by the others, reached the small guest house, the entire building was engulfed in flames, and the parts of the ceiling that hadn’t been destroyed in the blast were collapsing inward.

 

“Anna!” Cas screamed, ready to run forward, but Dean grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arms around him, and held him back.

 

“Cas, it’s too late!” He said against Cas’s ear. “It’s too late.”

 

“You don’t know that! What if they’re still alive in there!” Cas yelled, struggling to free himself.

 

“Baby, they’re not alive.” Dean said, pulling Cas tighter back against his chest. “No one could have survived this.” Dean felt the moment that Cas crumpled against him, all panic and fight flooding from his body. Dean turned Cas around so that the shorter man could hide his face against Dean’s chest, so he wouldn’t have to look at the flames. He didn’t cry; he’d already shed too many tears that day. Even if he could have cried, the shock kept him from it. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist and began to pray. Jumbled whispers fell from his mouth, pleading on behalf of his best friend Anna, his brother Michael, and their young child.

 

“They said it was a gas leak.” Ruby murmured the next morning. They were sitting alone on the back patio together, staring out toward the smoking embers of the guest house, their hands gripped tightly between them. They hadn’t held hands since they were children, but now, neither found that they really minded the contact. “I kept telling your dad that he needed to update the wiring and appliances in that place.”

 

Silence fell over them, but Ruby found that she couldn’t stay silent for very long. She needed to speak, to share this pain with someone who would understand exactly what she had lost.

 

“They think that the stove was left on. Which, I guess would make sense, if Anna made her usual cup of tea before bed.” Ruby’s voice broke off, and Castiel ran his thumb over the back of her hand. They sat there in silence for several moments longer before she spoke again. “You know that she was pregnant again, right?”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Cas murmured, his eyes glazing over as he thought back to their conversation in the garden the afternoon before.

 

“Michael hopes it’ll be a boy, but I’m betting on another girl. Gen would be over the moon for a baby sister to dote on. And it’ll be fun to see how fast this one wraps Michael around her little finger.” Anna had been so enthusiastic, so hopeful. Now, she was gone.

 

“Ruby, what’s happening here? Why is all of this suddenly coming against our family?” Castiel murmured, his eyes distant. He didn’t actually want an answer; she didn’t have one for him.

 

“I don’t know. But when I find out, there’ll be hell to pay.” Ruby vowed, her grip on Castiel’s hand tightening painfully. Castiel let her squeeze; it helped him focus his own pain.

 

“Are they still going through with the reading of the will today?” Cas asked silently, and Ruby shrugged.

 

“What would be the point? You and Gabriel are the only ones left who would really benefit anything from it. Well, only Gabe, I guess, since you were dead until yesterday.”

 

“Where is Gabe?” Cas asked. He hadn’t seen his older brother since the awkward encounter with Dean the night before. Well, he may have been at the fire, but Cas was so caught up in his own grief, he hadn’t noticed anyone outside of Dean.

 

“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him since dinner.” Ruby admitted. Just then, the back door opened, and Dean stepped out. He walked up behind Castiel’s chair and bent down to brush a kiss across the top of his head, “Hey, Babe.”

 

“Dean.” Cas murmured, tilting his head back to smile sadly at the other man. Dean bent down to press another gentle kiss against his mouth this time, and Cas blushed.

 

“Listen, Luci’s lawyer just called. The judge didn’t grant bail. He’s stuck there for the time being.” Dean informed them. Castiel glanced over at Ruby and raised his eyebrows; she just shrugged. This was the first time a judge had withheld bail for a Family member.

 

He pulled out his phone and called Balthazar. The phone rang six times before it was picked up.

 

“Cassie, if you are waking me up this early in the morning, it had better be for something really fucking important.”

 

“Get over to the house now. We need to talk.” Cas demanded. He hung up before Balth could argue.

 

When Balth finally arrived, looking rough and sleep-deprived, he grumbled and cursed at everyone until Cas shoved a mug of coffee into his hand and pointed toward the breakfast bar in the kitchen with a terse, “Sit.” 

 

Balthazar sat down in the indicated chair, and Dean, Cas, and Ruby took the others.

 

“First off, where’s my brother?”

 

“Prison, I’d thought.” Balthazar replied, his tone just smart-ass enough to grate on Dean’s nerves.

 

“No, jackass, not that one. Gabe.” Castiel clarified.

 

“Why the hell should I know where Gabe is? Am I your brother’s keeper?”

 

“Balth, don’t play that shit with us. You know where everybody in the Family is at all times. You’re like God, sure; but I can still kill you.” Ruby threatened, and Balth held his hands out in front of him.

 

“I really don’t know. He’s gone completely MIA, kind of like you back in the day, Cassie.”

 

“Well, fuck.” Ruby groused, dropping her head onto her arms.

 

“Okay, next question. Why won’t Judge Randolph grant Lucy bail? A judge has never withheld that before.”

 

“I honestly don’t know. According to some guy in the records office there, the old man was paid off to keep Lucifer in the slammer until after the funeral, at least.”

 

“Why the funeral? What’s so important about that?” Cas wondered aloud, and Ruby smacked him up back the head.

 

“If it was Michael who set Lucy up, then he would have wanted Lucy to stay in prison until after the funeral, when he would have assumed full control of the Family.”

 

“But Michael is dead now. If Michael was the one who set Lucy up, wouldn’t that have become null?”

 

“Cas, I highly doubt he put a clause in there about if he happened to die.” Dean pointed out. Cas nodded, but he didn’t fully agree. Michael’s accidental death the day before he would assume power was too much of a coincidence. “Accidents don’t just happen on accident.” He murmured to himself.

 

“What was that, Cassie?”

 

“Accidents don’t just happen on accident. Someone here in this family is pulling strings; they’re ensuring that all of the sons are picked off one by one. First Lucifer in prison, then probably Gabriel after dinner, now Michael in an explosion.”

 

“We don’t know that anything has happened to Gabe, though.” Ruby argued, but Cas shook his head.

 

“We don’t know that it hasn’t, Ruby. Balth, ask around, see if there’s any trail for whoever paid off the judge; maybe that can get us a lead on who actually killed the Father. Dean and I will start searching for Gabe. Ruby, stay here at the house. If Gabe shows up, or something else happens, call. And, um, maybe start looking into funeral arrangements for . . .”

 

“Yeah, I got it.” Ruby cut him off, her voice choked.

 

“I do have a life, you know.” Balthazar grumbled; Cas shot him a glare.

 

“Not today, you don’t.”

As the men stood and headed away to their tasks, Ruby called out, "You know, you reminded me of him so much, just now."

Castiel didn't have to ask her who she meant.


	9. Where There's a Will, There's a Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean go in search of Gabe, and the Father's final will is read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: there is some violence toward the end of this chapter. Again, totally shitting out the ass for the gun and blood spray stuff. I have a few pins about blood patterns (for writing purposes, don't get any wrong ideas), but I was too lazy to go digging through my writing board to find them. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

Cas and Dean spent the entire morning visiting Gabriel’s usual haunts. They called his friends, his girlfriends, his things on the side. They even visited his ex-wife.

 

“I haven’t heard from the bastard in ages,” Kali sneered from behind her screen door. “But when you do find that mangy little cat, tell him that he has something of mine, and I want it back.” Then she slammed the door in their faces.

 

“Well, she seems like quite the charmer.” Dean remarked dryly; Castiel just shook his head as he turned to walk back to the car. “And what the hell was with the cat thing? I can think of at least twenty more disgusting animals she could have used there.”

 

“It was a Vegas wedding. And in her culture, cats are probably worse off than they are in ours.”

 

“Oh, so she was a showgirl?” Dean guessed, but Cas shook his head.

 

“No, Gabe was.”

 

“You mean he was stripper.”

 

“No, a showgirl. Worked in a show there for two weeks, and it wasn’t even a drag show. I still don’t know how he managed to pull that one off. Neither does he, for the record. He remembers going to a small birthday party here in the suburbs, and when he finally came to himself, he was in Vegas, married.”

 

“To Kali, who was not a showgirl.” Dean clarified.

 

“Right. She was in Vegas at a business convention. How Gabe ever convinced a goddess like Kali to marry him, while he was dressed in heels and feathers, no less, is a miracle.”

 

“I feel like Gabe just does whatever he wants, and the world has no choice but to go along with it.”

 

“Pretty much. Let’s head over to the waterfront district. There are a couple of dive bars there he might have passed out in.” Cas suggested as he slid back into the driver’s seat of the small, nondescript car they’d borrowed.

 

They drove in silence for several minutes before Dean spoke again.

 

“Cas, you doin’ okay, man?”

 

“As well as can be expected.” Cas responded, and he suddenly sounded so weary.

 

“If it means anything, I think you’re holding up great. I mean, Ruby was right. From what I’ve heard about your father, he got shit done. And you, well, you’re getting shit done, despite everything else that’s been going on.”

 

“Thank you, Dean. But, honestly, what would be the purpose of just holing up at the house and waiting the weekend out? I’d go insane. No, right now the best thing for me is to stay busy.”

 

A few minutes later, Cas’s cell phone rang, and he pressed the answer call button on his steering wheel after checking the caller ID on the center console’s screen.

 

“Got anything, Ruby?” He asked by way of greeting.

 

“No, but your father’s attorney is here. Apparently, he’s planning on reading the will today.”

 

“What? Why? Doesn’t he know . . .” Cas began, his irritation clear, but Ruby interrupted him.

 

“He does, but apparently he has strict instructions from the Father to read the will before the funeral. So, unless we want to push that funeral back to Wednesday instead of tomorrow, the will has to be read today.”

 

“What’s so fucking important that it couldn’t wait until after the funeral?” Cas wondered aloud, glancing over at Dean. Dean shrugged. “Listen, ask him to wait until we get there. We’ll be back in about twenty minutes.”

 

“We’ll wait.” Ruby promised before hanging up. Cas pressed down harder on the gas pedal, moving up to fifteen miles over the speed limit.

 

“Why is it that when you’re in a rush, every damn stop light turns against you?” He mused, tapping his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel as they waited at their third stop light.

 

“We’ll make it there eventually; don’t be so impatient.” Dean chided, and Castiel glared at him. Dean reached out toward him, holding out his hand like he had that night at the bar. Cas allowed a soft smile to flit across his mouth as he took Dean’s offered hand and linked their fingers. 

 

“You know, I must say, you are the best damn fake fiancé I’ve ever had.” Castiel observed, and Dean grinned.

 

“Just wait until you see the real deal.” Dean promised with a wink, bringing their linked hands up to press a soft kiss against the back of Cas’s hand. Castiel’s smile widened, but immediately froze.

 

“Wait, there’s going to be a real deal?”

 

“Of course; what did you think that whole kiss thing was about last night?” Dean asked, and Cas shrugged.

 

“I don’t know, practice for in front of my family? Why, what did you think it was about?” Cas asked, suddenly uncertain. But instead of answering, Dean just smiled and indicated toward the stop light, which had turned green. Castiel began to drive, his mind in a fog. Dean wanted the real deal? With him? Of course, now that Cas wanted more stop lights, every light was suddenly green.

 

When they reached the house, Cas parked the car out front and hurried inside with Dean following. Ruby was waiting in the front hall, pacing anxiously.

 

“Where is he?” Cas demanded as he approached.

 

“He’s in the office, with Zachariah.” She announced, falling into step with him and Dean as they headed that way. When he stepped into the large office, his father’s attorney, Joshua, and Zachariah, an old family friend, stood from their seats in front of the desk.

 

“Gentlemen, so good to see you again.” Castiel greeted them easily, stepping forward to shake each of their hands.

 

“And you, as well, Castiel. I’d heard that you were back.” Zachariah commented, his tone too light.

 

“Yes, I arrived yesterday. I was disappointed to see you missing from the gathering last night, Uncle.” Castiel observed.

 

“I was out of town until late last night.” Zachariah hedged, obviously uncomfortable. “And who is this gentleman?” He asked brightly, turning his attention to Dean in an attempt to change the topic.

 

“This is my fiancé, Dean Smith. Dean, this is Zachariah, an old family friend. We call him uncle, but he’s not actually related.” Dean shook hands with the older, balding man, hiding his grimace at the clamminess of his hands. Castiel turned to the other gentleman, “And this is Joshua, my father’s longtime friend and attorney.” Dean shook his as well, smiling at the firm grip and steady eyes. 

 

“Shall we sit?” Cas asked, moving toward the last empty chair in front of the desk as Dean and Ruby headed toward the seating area that was situated off to the side. Zachariah laid a hand on Castiel’s arm, stopping him.

 

“Castiel, why don’t you go ahead and take that chair there?” He suggested, pointing at the imposing, empty chair behind the desk.

 

“I really don’t think that’s necessary, Uncle.” Castiel replied, but Zachariah shook his head.

 

“I insist; I would be remiss if I allowed the favored son to sit anywhere but his father’s seat.” Zachariah persisted. Cas tilted his head to the side, squinting at him. What was his purpose for this? He glanced over at Dean, his eyes questioning, but Dean simply inclined his head toward the empty chair. Cas heaved a sigh as he walked behind the desk and pulled the chair out. As he settled into the seat, he stared directly at Zachariah, trying to read his expression, possibly catch any flickers of emotion, whether positive or negative. The old man continued to smile his smug, toad-like smile as he and Joshua took their seats again.

 

Castiel finally turned his attention to Joshua. When he smiled at him, it was genuine; Joshua had always been very close to his Father, and despite their line of work, had strived to be a good man.

 

“Joshua, Ruby has informed me that Father was adamant about his will being read before the funeral.”

 

“Indeed, he was, and I’m sure you’ll understand why.” Joshua assured him as he pulled a manila envelope out of his briefcase. He also pulled out a plain crème business envelope. He glanced over at Castiel, “Could you possibly hand me the letter opener from the top right drawer?” 

 

Cas pulled a gold letter opener out of the drawer handed it over to the attorney.

 

“Thank you.” Joshua said as he used the opener to slice open the top of the sealed crème envelope. He pulled out the letter, written on matching stationary to the envelope, and unfolded it. He cleared his throat and began to read.

 

“My dearest family,” Castiel drew up short at that, his thoughts turning to his brothers. There were supposed to be others here with him, listening to these words, mourning this loss. But he sat here, alone. He suddenly felt so overwhelmed by the implications of that. He, the rebellious son, was the only one left to hear his father’s supposed last thoughts and wishes. Surely, of all of Charles’s sons, he was the least worthy of this task. He almost stood and fled from the room, but he caught sight of Dean over Joshua’s shoulder, and blushed at the encouraging smile Dean directed at him. Cas calmed as he realized that no, he wasn’t completely alone, not yet. He turned his attention back to Joshua.

 

“If Joshua is reading this letter to you, it means that I have died. Unfortunate as the circumstances behind my death may be, I urge you to not be saddened by this event. I have lived a long life, and I have made many great contributions and changes to my city. However, if Joshua is reading this letter, it also means that I have not yet made the most important change, not for my city, but for my family.

 

“My whole life, I have believed that family is everything. It was such an important concept for me; it still is. From an early age, I determined that I would establish a Family that was to be envied. I was overcome by my goal; but instead of creating a Family, I have created a monstrosity. We do more harm than good, and we must be stopped. Therefore, I use this, my last will and testament, being of sound mind, to hereby dissolve the Family that I have created. I know this may come as a shock, but I believe it is necessary.

 

“To my sons, I must apologize. I have raised you with a firm hand that one would expect from a master, not a father. I have trained you into soldiers for my army, ignoring the cost. I can ignore it no longer. Looking back over my life, I know that I have committed many sins, but the abandonment of my sons is the most troubling of all. I can only hope that this letter will atone. I know that you, my children, cannot lead fulfilling lives with this organization still in place. As such, I have installed safeguards that will guarantee the end of the Family as it is currently known. If this letter is being read, those safeguards are already working to tear down the structures I have built. One of you will need to remain for some time to ensure that the job is completed, but once it is, you will leave the city. All of you must leave Chicago; that is essential.

 

“Michael, take your wife and child, move somewhere where you can guarantee their safety.” Castiel’s eyes slid shut on a wave of grief at those words, but he did not interrupt as Joshua continued reading. “Lucifer, go to Brazil, be with your wife and child that you keep hidden there.” Castiel’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Gabriel, take Kali somewhere nice; I know that you two are in the midst of another divorce, but if you simply apologize, I’m sure that she’ll accept you back.” Wait, another divorce? As in, they had remarried? Apparently, his father had known more about them than he had let on. Cas hung his head, anticipating the closing of the letter, but stiffened as Joshua continued to read. “And to my youngest son Castiel, stay where you are, wherever that may be. Do not come back to this awful city that contains such terrible memories for you. I am sorry for the pain, emotional and physical, that I allowed you to endure in the name of my earning more power and money. It was unpardonable, and I have no excuse to offer you. I can only hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive a foolish old man.

 

“Whichever of you determines to stay behind and clean up my mess will need to speak with Joshua. He holds all of the information for the Family’s accounts and the instructions for the Family’s dissolvement. Please trust that this is for the best for everybody. Until we meet again, my fondest affection toward you all, Charles Shurley.”

 

Silence reigned in the room as Joshua folded up the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. Castiel sat with his elbows resting on the desk, his fingers steepled, as he contemplated what the letter meant. He finally looked up at Zachariah, and found that the older man was staring down at his hands morosely.

 

“I take it that you were part of this, Uncle?” He asked, but the older man did not reply; he simply nodded. Castiel knew without asking that this business was what had kept Zachariah away the night before. Castiel glanced over to where Dean and Ruby sat; Dean seemed confused, but Ruby appeared downright devastated.

 

“I suppose that the task is left to me.” Castiel decided, looking to Joshua. “I’ll have to stay long enough to ensure that it’s well and truly ended.”

 

“It’s what he would have wanted.” Joshua agreed. Castiel stood to reach across the desk and take the manila envelope from the attorney, but stopped short at Ruby’s soft, “No.”

 

Castiel looked over at her, his eyebrows raised. “What was that, Ruby?”

 

She slowly stood and turned to face him. “I said no,” She repeated. Castiel didn’t know where she’d been concealing the glock, but suddenly, there were two loud shots, and twin sprays of blood erupted from both Joshua and Zachariah’s skulls. As the dead men slumped forward, Dean jumped up to grab Ruby, but she spun around and used the grip of the gun to butt him in the face, first one way, then the other, before hitting him in the bridge of his nose and knocking him to the ground. She spun around in a roundhouse kick, hitting him in the temple and knocking him unconscious. Castiel reached for the gun he knew that his father had kept hidden on the underside the desk, but stopped short when he heard a gun safety click off right behind his ear.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Castiel.” A soft voice spoke from directly behind him, and he gasped.

 

“Anna?” He whispered, but before he could turn around, there was a sharp blow to the back of his head, and darkness overtook him.


	10. One Villainous Soliloquy, Coming Right Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No crime story would be complete without the villain's expounding on his plans, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is it! We've come to the end! 
> 
> Quick note: there is some mention of mental abuse/duress. 
> 
> There are some time jumps in the story line, looking back at previous scenes. Hopefully it's not too confusing! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! If you have any suggestions or comments for this fic or future fics, drop a note to let me know!

When Castiel woke again, he was no longer in his father’s office. He tried to raise his head to look around and gain his bearings, but his head was throbbing. His mouth felt dry, like someone had stuffed a bunch of cotton balls in it, and his jaw ached, like it was being stretched around something. He realized that a rag had been shoved in his mouth, gagging him. His hands were bound with zip ties to the arms of an uncomfortable metal chair, and his feet were bound to the legs. After several long moments of pulling in deep breaths through his nose, he was finally able to lift his head slowly and gaze around the dimly lit space. He realized that he was in the basement of the main house. He groaned as another spike of pain split through his head, and he heard a muffled response from behind him. He slowly turned his head to the side and realized that Dean was bound and gagged in a chair at his back.

 

Shit.

 

Well, at least that meant he was still alive, but for how much longer was anybody’s guess.

 

“Oh, good. You’re up!” He heard from off to the side, and Ruby walked into his line of vision, her smirk wicked. She motioned to another person, and Anna slowly stepped forward as well, her expression sorrowful and apologetic. His eyes widened as he remembered those last seconds before he’d been knocked out.

 

“Surprised to see her? I know, right? You didn’t even see it coming. But that’s the problem with you men, you never do.” Ruby’s voice was hard and flat, angry. “In fact, you never really think about anyone or anything besides yourselves and your little plans.” She smiled maliciously, “But that’s exactly what made it so easy for me . . . sorry, for us.” She murmured, turning toward Anna and taking her hand. “You see, all you men are so caught up with your fucking selves. I mean, hey, my sons need a better life? Let me break apart my entire organization. Never mind the people who have devoted their entire goddamned lives to me and my shit cause! Never mind that I’ll be screwing over those people who were stomped on for years, waiting for their opportunity, biding their time, planning for the day when I would be gone and they could step in.” She stared at him, and he stared back. Did she expect him to speak or something? Because he still had the rag in his mouth. She sighed and reached forward to yank it out, “This will be a lot more fun with you saying things like ‘oh no! what are we going to do!’ or ‘you’re going to pay for this.’”

 

“Thanks.” He muttered, flexing his jaw. “Anna, what the hell?”

 

“I truly am sorry about this, Castiel. You weren’t supposed to be here.” Anna explained, her eyes shining. “You were supposed to stay away, wherever you were, and let us take care of things.”

 

“I know, I know, you’re wondering, what things?” Ruby cut in. “Well, it’s simple . . .”

 

“Shut up, Ruby, and let my best friend talk. You’re no better than her dead husband. Or is he alive as well?” Castiel asked, his tone accusing.

 

“No, you’d better believe that pompous asshole is dead.” Ruby announced proudly.

 

Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked over to Anna. “You said that he was good to you.” She sighed softly.

 

“Honestly, Castiel. You used to be the smart one. Do you honestly believe that I would have ever said yes to a man like Michael of my own volition? Daddy did pawn me off on him, as soon as I turned twenty-one. And that man was so terrible, right from the start.” Anna explained, tears welling in her eyes. “He played such terrible mind games with me. He played me against my father, against Ruby, against you, against myself. He was so controlling and manipulative, always finding new ways to put me down. And I knew that I couldn’t bring children into that type of home, so I went on contraceptives. But a couple years ago, something went wrong. I got pregnant with Gen, and Michael let up for a little while. But then, about seven months after she was born, he started in on me again. And then when I found out I was pregnant again, I knew that I needed to get out from under him. So I asked Ruby to help us escape.”

 

“And, of course, I agreed. I needed a noble cause, you know, to justify the fact that as soon as the Father was dead, I was going to rip apart his bloodline; I was going to tear it to shreds and leave it mangled for a warning for everyone. I had it all in place, the prison sentence for Lucifer, the painful death for Michael, the sudden disappearance of Gabriel. But then you, Cassie, just had to come back, didn’t you? You and your pretty little fiancé, Dean Smith. Or, wait, is it Dean Winchester?” She asked, walking around to grab Dean by the hair and yank his head back. “How does it feel, Agent, knowing that you had your ass handed to you by a short little girl like me?”

 

“Don’t you dare touch him.” Cas warned, his voice low.

 

“Oh, I think I’m going to do whatever the hell I want with him, Cassie. Besides, what are you going to do? It looks like you’re at a disadvantage here.”

 

Cas gritted his teeth, because fuck if she wasn’t right about that.

 

“So, let me guess, you’re going to kill us both and bury our bodies under the ashes of the guest house? Or maybe slip us into the grave with father.”

 

“Don’t be so short-sighted, Cassie. Of course, I’m not going to kill you, not when Crowley has special plans for you.” She spoke in a sing-song voice, coming around to bop Castiel on the nose with her index finger.

 

“Crowley?” Castiel murmured, eyebrows furrowing.

 

“Of course, Crowley. How do you think I got all the money to pay off all those people? First there was the coroner who happened to find the poison in the Father’s bloodstream, after an anonymous tip, of course, and the policeman who planted the poison in Luci’s car, and the judge who kept Luci from getting out on bail. And there was the consultant who rigged the explosion at the guest house.”

 

“But Crowley’s an old business partner of Father’s?”

 

“You can’t seem to grasp the fact that we didn’t kill the Father; we simply bided our time until we could take advantage of his death. And you know how everyone else felt about that smug little British bastard. Do you honestly think that any of your brothers would have had any dealings with Crowley after the way he treated you all those years ago? No. So, it was to his advantage to make sure that the person who ended up in the top spot was someone who would still play ball with him. And at first, that was incentive enough. But now that you’re back in town, he’s decided that he’d like to include you as part of the deal.”

 

“What about Dean?”

 

“Oh, I’m definitely going to kill him. But not without having a little fun first.” She admitted with a giggle. “See, I’m going to make you watch as I torture this little bitch. And then, after I make you watch, I’m going to kill him so slowly, and I’m going to enjoy it. It’s not often that I get to give in to those sadistic little tendencies I keep hidden away.”

 

“Ruby . . .” Anna murmured, her voice unsure.

 

“No, Anna!” Ruby bit out. She bent over Castiel’s chair, resting her hands on his forearms, digging her nails into the skin as she leaned far into his space. “I am going to take everything right from you, Castiel Shurley, and after I do, I’m going to make you watch as I ascend my throne. If this city thought that they had it bad under the Father, they won’t even stand a chance against their new Mother. I will claim what is mine.”

 

“I understand that. But answer me this,” Castiel murmured, leaning in to whisper into Ruby’s ear. “How do you expect to claim a throne that is not empty?” And then Ruby was being yanked back by her ponytail, screaming in pain as the man who’d grabbed her took hold of her arm and twisted it behind her back, incapacitating her.

 

“Took you long enough, Carson.” Castiel muttered, and the security guard gave a shrug, his expression apologetic.

 

“Sorry; traffic was a bitch.”

 

Castiel turned his head to glance over his shoulder, “You doing okay, Dean?” He took the muffled response to mean yes. Ruby, shell shocked, stared at Castiel before looking over to where Anna was being held much more gently by Jase. She gazed around the small room at the four men who’d sneaked into the basement, unnoticed by the two women. They were the Father’s former bodyguards. “Where the hell did you—” She began, but was cut off by a stern voice.

 

“Indeed, Ruby, how do you claim a throne that, as of yet, is not empty?” The man asked as he stepped into the small basement room. He was followed close behind by two other men, and Ruby gasped.

 

“Father . . .” She breathed out, eyes wide and glazed over.

 

“Oh, no. I think you’ll find that I’m not your Father; he died on Wednesday of a heart attack. But even if he weren’t dead, I highly doubt he’d claim you.” The man explained calmly. Ruby looked to Castiel, the question clear on her face. How had he known?

 

 

The Previous Wednesday – Singer kitchen

 

“And god, I wish I could say yes, Bobby. I wish I could pay you back for everything, but I – I can’t.” Castiel forced the words out, his whole body shaking. Ellen and Jo jumped up from their seats, yelling again at Bobby, at each other, but Castiel wasn’t listening to any of it. He could feel another panic attack coming on, and he tried to fight it off. Focus, focus, focus. He repeated the mantra to himself, his eyes shifting wildly, trying to find something to focus on. And then his hip started buzzing. He focused on the sound, pulling in deep breaths in time to the buzzing, until he felt himself calm down. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and glanced down at the screen, and he felt his eyes widen.

 

“Shit.” He whispered, before he pressed the answer button and brought the phone up to his ear. “Father?” He choked out.

 

“Castiel. Hand the phone to Agent Singer.”

 

The Previous Thursday – FBI Conference Room

 

“And he wants to completely demolish the system?” Benny confirmed for the third time. Bobby rolled his eyes and nodded, “Yes! God, stop asking the same question over and over again, ya jackass.”

 

“This Ruby girl, that’s who he warned us about?” Pamela asked, pointing to a picture of Ruby in her folder.

 

“Yes, she and I have had a . . . rough relationship, ever since childhood.” Castiel explained, flipping through his own folder.

 

“So, pretty much, you’re going to be . . . what? Crowd control? Make sure everyone follows Daddy’s new rules after they’re read? The new sheriff in town?” Pamela teased. Castiel grinned, “I rather like the sound of that.”

 

“Well, we can’t just stick him back in there. That’ll be too suspicious.” Benny cautioned.

 

“Not if we play it right.” Castiel interjected from his end of the conference table.

 

Earlier that afternoon – Kali’s house

 

“But when you do find that mangy little cat, tell him that he has something of mine, and I want it back.” Then Kali slammed the door in their faces.

 

“Well, she seems like quite the charmer.” Dean remarked dryly; Castiel just shook his head as he turned to walk back to the car. “And what the hell was with the cat thing? I can think of at least twenty more disgusting animals she could have used there.”

 

Later, once they were in the car where they couldn’t be overheard, Castiel spoke up again, “The cat thing was code; Gabe always makes cat jokes when he’s talking to or about Ruby. And that whole thing about tell him I want it back? It’s to let us know that the Father, Gabe, and Lucy are back inside city limits.”

 

“Pair that with what Balth told us about Crowley’s bank accounts . . .” Dean trailed off. Castiel nodded, “It looks like Ruby’s taking her final steps. Let’s just hope she doesn’t get anyone else before this is all over.” He thought of his brother, whom he hadn’t been able to save. 

 

“How much longer we gotta keep up this fake search?” Dean asked.

 

“Is the car still there?” Cas responded with his own question. Dean glanced in his side mirror. The silver car that had been trailing them all morning was still four cars behind them.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Then we keep driving around until either we lose the tail, or we hear from their boss.”

 

Right then, his phone rang. “Speak of the devil.” He muttered before he pressed the answer call button on his steering wheel. “Got anything, Ruby?”

 

 

Now, in the basement, with the Father, Gabriel, and Lucifer all staring her down, Ruby snarled at Castiel. “You’ve known about this since the beginning!”

 

“Of course, I have. You don’t really think I would have returned home for any other reason than to burn this thing to the ground?” Cas asked. “The Family needs to end, Ruby. It cannot continue on like this, and the Father knew that as long as he was alive, it would continue on. So, he pulled a me and faked his death so that the safeguards would fall into place.”

 

“But, you went to Balthazar, looking for answers,” Anna murmured, confused.

 

“No, I went to Crowley’s club to make it look like I was asking Balth for answers.” He glanced over at his father, “Speaking of which, where is the little toad?”

 

“They’ve got him. Apparently, bribing a police officer and a judge is a federal offense.” Lucifer informed them, staring straight at Ruby. Castiel nodded, and then shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He looked up at one of the men standing near his chair. “I know that you’d all prefer to stand there, looking all tough and cool, but could you please untie me? My ass is numb, and not in a good way.”

 

Jack laughed and stepped forward, pulling out his pocket knife. He undid the ties around Cas’s wrists and ankles, and then handed him the knife so he could go take care of Dean. Cas walked around to squat in front of Dean’s chair, smiling serenely as he gazed into those bright green eyes. He carefully pulled the gag out of Dean’s mouth and tossed it to the side.

 

“Hey,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss against Dean’s mouth.

 

“Hey, back at ya.” Dean whispered hoarsely, but he was smiling. “Why don’t you untie me so we can go make your ass numb in a good way?” Cas laughed as he reached down to cut through the bonds.

 

Fourth of July

 

From his spot on the roof, Cas gazed up at the night sky as fireworks exploded all around. His face split into a wide grin as one burst out in the shape of a smiley face. Sometimes, on nights like this, when he was practically bursting with contentment and happiness, he thought about all those times he’d felt so alone and terrified, and he wished he could go back and comfort that teenager, and tell him that it was going to get better. He wished that he could show him how he wasn’t alone anymore. Not now, not ever again. Cas laughed softly as Dean’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind and pulled him back to lean against his chest. Dean held out his hands in front of them, and Castiel linked their fingers together, sighing contentedly as Dean brushed a feather soft kiss against his temple. Cas happened to glance over at Jo, who started making kissy faces when they made eye contact. He chuckled when Ellen wacked her lightly on the shoulder, cautioning her to behave. As soon as Ellen turned back to watching the fireworks, Jo shot him the bird. He stuck out his tongue before turning his own eyes back to the night sky.

 

“What do you say we get out of here after this? We can put those new red, white, and blue panties to good use.” Dean suggested softly at his ear. Cas nodded eagerly, causing the other man to grin. Nope, never alone again.


End file.
